


Don't Cry Baby.

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Angst, Author!Stiles, Depression, Discussion of Abortion, F/F, F/M, Infidelity, Kid Fic, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, One Night Stands, PR!Derek, Romance, Single Parenting, Slow Build, Terminal Illnesses, Unknow Paternity, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:30:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is 24, an established author and single parent to his two and a half month old daughter. He's at the peak of his career and with a new book to finish, changes, revelations and a baby to juggle, that irritating question in the back of his mind is getting harder to ignore.</p><p>Derek works in PR. He hates his job and his colleagues and his relationship is rapidly falling apart. He needs some time to himself; he isn't ready for commitment or complete selflessness and with his life slowly grinding to a standstill as he approaches 27, he needs some time alone to clear his head.</p><p>Five tickets to Norway, One delayed flight, Two not so complete strangers, One baby, Two almost paternity tests and a whole lot of questions weren't what either of them had bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I've been throwing around in my mind and working on for quite some time now and with some help from NaNoWriMo I've managed to get it on to a document. This is not an Omegaverse fic, some men can just get pregnant and it's not a big deal, no heats, no stress, _it's all good._
> 
> Stiles is far less ADD in this fic than how he is usually portrayed, but no less sassy. There are mature themes such as abortion that will be discussed seriously in this fic and I know that might not be for everyone, but it is in no way bias or bashing. 
> 
> This fic is not just going to be an onslaught of continuous angst, there will be lighter chapters and humor and _maybe_ a little fluff thrown in here and there; I'm not torturing them as much as it seems. 
> 
> Derek is a bit of a dick, but no more than usual.
> 
> I really hope you guys like this and constructive feedback is always welcome, (really I'm begging for some back and forth here.) 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this. I really appreciate it.  
> \- Y

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

Stiles groaned and buried his face deeper in to his pillow. The digital clock beside his bed flashed a red florescent _'06:45,'_ in the dark.

Rays of scattered dim light filtered through the gaps in the open shutters from the streetlights and across the room, shadowing the desk and the chair and the stack of books and magazines beside the bed, as well as the stationary, trinkets and odds and ends.

 

Few illuminated dust particles moved in and around the blue hued space and out the ajar window in to the icy winter breeze outside; the remaining light swept over Stiles' freckled back, as if to lull him awake, along with the distraught wailing from beside his bed.

  
"Alright, I'm up, I'm up." He mumbled,  the crying only getting louder as he dragged himself out of bed.  
  
Stiles reached in to the cot beside his bed and carefully lifted Lily out with practiced steady hands, even in his sleepy lethargic state.  
  
"There we go. It's okay, I'm here." Stiles whispered to the tiny infant in his arms, cradling her against his chest, supporting her head on his shoulder and rocking back and forth. He hushed and muttered comforts to her as her crying ebbed in to calmer puffs of warm breath against his neck.  
  
Stiles knew his apartment well enough to be able to make his way to the kitchen in the dark, the sparse light from outside was helpful, but he didn't need it as he padded towards the kettle, trying to shake the sleep from his eyes enough to place his daughter in the bassinet and refill it.  
  
"I'm going to give you your milk and then it's back to bed, sweetheart." Stiles said quietly, mostly to himself as he spooned some powdered formula in to a bottle.

Stiles had been hopeless the first time he had tried to get the measurements right and most of the formula had ended up on the floor and over himself, not to mention the incident with the excruciatingly hot water all over himself. He was lucky he'd gotten away from that without any grievous bodily harm and just some hurt pride.

  
Stiles glanced at his unedited manuscript, strewn in messy piles and loose pages on the coffee table in the living room and for a second Stiles wished he hadn't decided to get an apartment with an open kitchen. His deadline was three days away and he wasn't even halfway through the final chapter drafts, let alone putting all those pages in order.

Inspiration had been lacking in the past months and what with looking after a baby to add to his list of priorities, he just didn't have that much time to really sit down and write like he needed to.  
  
The click of the kettle was far too loud this late at night, or early in the morning if Stiles was going to be pedantic. Stiles poured the boiled water in to the bottle and closed the lid tightly before shaking it, running the bottom end under the cold tap and tested the temperature on his wrist.  
  
Leaning against the kitchen counter, Stiles settled Lily in his arms again and cooed to her, letting her grab on to the loose material of his shirt in her tiny fists as she quickly latched on to the teat of the bottle. Watching her watching him was always fascinating, her clear blue-grey eyes staring up at him curiously while he brushed the soft curls on her head, ruffled and wispy, back and away from her little face.  
  
Her eyelids began to droop, eyelashes fluttering lightly against her cheeks; asleep before she even finished the bottle. Stiles pried it away and put it down. Gently placing her on his shoulder, he patted her small back, coaxing a tiny burp. It was difficult getting her to eat very much at the moment and she'd finally increased the amount she drank from a worrying quarter to a half bottle every few hours.  
  
Kissing her forehead, Stiles headed back to the bedroom and put her back in to the cot; covering her with a knitted quilt before closing the window and shutters fully. There was no chance of him going back to sleep now, he'd woken up three times that night already and when he had slept it had been restless. He'd been dealing with publishing offers for weeks while his agent was away and he thanked every deity in existence that she would be back the following day to sort it all out and actually have the balls, unlike Stiles, to swiftly reject those offers.  
  
Stiles considered packing, the empty suitcases across the room a product of the same thought he'd had two days before. He wasn't entirely sure what he needed to pack for Norway, but whatever he did end up packing, he was sure Lydia would empty and repack herself.

Stiles was apprehensive about traveling with Lily, she was only two and a half months old and he hadn't taken her further than the grocery store, let alone another country. When he was pregnant he had traveled almost everywhere, but it was different now that he had to pack for her and make sure she had any vaccinations she might need or how much formula to pack and diapers and clothes and so many other things he needed to worry about.  
  
Keeping the water in the shower slightly hotter than necessary, Stiles skin took on a pink tinge under the spray, letting the water cascade over his body and relax his muscles. He'd started using unscented body washes when Lily was born and he sometimes missed the burst of lemon and teatree when he uncapped his shower gel, but Lily had always been sensitive to smell, the doctor had said it was something to do with how premature she was. Stiles would rather smell like the fragrance equivalent of beige than frustrate Lily's senses.  
  
Scrubbing his body clean and rinsing off, he stepped out and patted himself dry with a white fluffy towel then tying it around his waist, he'd get changed later on and he wasn't really in a rush to go anywhere or do anything besides brushing his teeth with his dark blue plain toothbrush and gargling the ridiculously, almost painfull minty, mouthwash.  
  
Lily's breathing was the only noise in the room, comforting and rhythmic. Stiles could spend hours just listening to her breathe, however creepy he might have thought that sounded, he couldn't get enough of the gentle inhale and exhale of breath and the small thud of her heartbeat when he held her close. He couldn't quite remember how he'd lived without it, nothing but silence.  
  
Sat among the towers of printed pages in the living room, he rooted through what looked like chapter four, possibly twenty five by the way the main character was brooding beside his motor cycle. He had an ending in mind, he just wanted to get it perfect. Writing an ending wasn't difficult, but if he did it half assed he wouldn't forgive himself, especially if he knew it could have been better. After how well his first book did, he had a standard to keep up and it was pretty damn high.  
  
The book signing in Norway would be the first since he gave birth and he teetered between excited, terrified and irritated. It was difficult enough while he was pregnant to avoid invasive questions and now that Lily was born he wasn't sure if he'd be as polite as he'd been before. It wasn't unheard of for someone to be a single parent, but Stiles had become a public figure now and that seemed to make everyone interested and _'concerned'_ about how he lived his life and cared for his child all on his own. Stiles wasn't entirely sure how he did it either.

It had all seemed so much, so fast and sudden, but he was doing it and he was still alive and managing to live everyday as it came, paparazzi and scathing reviews of his lifestyle be damned.

  
Admitting that it would be nice to have someone around to help wasn't something Stiles did. In his opinion, he really _didn't_ need anyone. He loved Lily with such intensity he even shocked himself that he was capable of loving someone that much, that the idea of giving some of that to someone else because he struggled once in a while just pissed him off. He chose to keep Lily and he knew he'd have to work twice as hard for her.  
  
Pitying looks and condescending articles were some of the reasons, other than caring for Lily, that stopped Stiles from going out as much as he used to. He was happy just spending his day with his daughter and not having to deal with the stress of people knowing his name and thinking they knew him and his parenting skills or how exactly his child was conceived.  
  
Stiles had never bought in to any of the bullshit about single parents. He had been raised by one and although it wasn't by choice, his Dad had done a pretty decent job bringing Stiles up and keeping a roof over their heads and Stiles would do the same for Lily if it killed him, no matter what anyone said.

Granted the circumstances of Lily's conception _hadn't_ been ideal and she'd have questions when she grew up, but Stiles still had time to get ready for that and something good had still come out of a relatively shitty situation.  
  
Having a great amount of support from all his friends and family took a weight off of his shoulders that he didn't even know he was carrying when he was too afraid to tell them he was pregnant. However confused and torn Stiles had been they had carried on with their lives and despite the fact it seemed like everyone else was moving so fast around him and he was at a stand still, it was comforting knowing the world kept spinning.  
  
Yeah, he had had an unplanned pregnancy right at the peak of his career, but life carried on as normal for everybody else and that made the fact that his life was going to change a little easier to swallow, because Scott would still be Scott, goofy and clueless and lovable and his Dad would still be eating food that was bad for him when Stiles wasn't monitoring him and his elderly next door neighbor would still steal his newspaper every week as if she thought Stiles didn't notice.  
  
Stiles didn't feel like a kid anymore and that was a big change he had to deal with. He'd had to catapult himself in to maturity so quickly he almost got whiplash and the continuation of life around him softened the blow.  
  
Sighing and putting the pages haphazardly on to the desk, Stiles decided he'd leave it for another day.  
  
He stretched and tucked his right knee under his chin and watched the crawl of the sun, further above the Chicago city skyline and higher. Spirals of oranges, magentas, lilacs and whites seeped through the blurred cerulean and kick started the early morning hum of cars and pedestrian sound and life outside his downtown apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 CHAPTER TWO  
   

 

"To be quite honest with you Dick, I really don't care."

Derek grit his teeth as inconspicuously as possible, his eyes shifting from his boss and down to the pile of pens he was straightening on his desk with his stubby fingers.

Derek narrowed his eyes at the streaks of bald on the man's scalp. How did people not see that a comb over wasn't a good idea? Especially a man with less hair than a Xoloitzcuintle. The way the light hit off it from the window behind him at that angle; he looked like a solar panel. Who the hell-

"Are you listening to me, Dick?" His nasal soprano drawl cutting through Derek's thoughts, enough to tare his eyes away from the clump of hair gel caught on the ends of his hair, or what was left of it anyway.

"Yes, sir." Derek wasn't listening.

Derek wouldn't be listening if he was being paid to, which he was. He'd had a shit day today.

The boiler had busted and he'd been forced to shower in cold water, Kate had started a fight with him over nothing, his car wouldn't start and he'd taken the train to work, squashed none too elegantly between a guy that smelt like the drains outside FatBurger and a handsy old lady. Not to mention Jackson and his smug face when he walked through the elevator an hour late and realized he'd forgotten his brief case on the subway.

He'd just sat in a meeting for four solid hours and now he'd been called in by his boss.

"Now I don't mind you being late once in a while, but what I can't fathom is your attitude." He said _'fathom'_ as though he was frothing at the mouth and the image of white froth coming out of the tubby man's mouth almost made Derek gag. Derek was also never late. Ever. This had been the first. Jackson was late _every day._

"You're not enthusiastic. Some of your colleagues have even called you hostile." Derek's eyebrow twitched at the look of faked concern on his bosses face.

 _Hostile_. Derek wasn't _hostile_ , he just liked his space and a lot of it.

"Do you really want to be _that_ guy?" His wedding band was cutting off the circulation in his finger and it was a stunning shade of purple, far more aesthetically pleasing than his massive shiny forehead.

"That guy?" Derek answered as calmly as he could, fists clenched in his lap.

"The one that everybody hates! This is a PR firm, we need people who are friendly people persons!" Some spittle landed on his desk and Derek was glad he'd sat as far back from it as possible. "Take Jackson for example! People _like_ him, he brings me business and in turn a _hell_ of a lot of money. And tell me what, since I hired you a couple months ago, have you done for this business, Dick?"

 _A couple of_ \- Derek had been working in the _same_ job in the _same role_ for _six_ years. He'd been to _every_ meeting, every opening, organized some of the best events for the so called elite and he was the _best_ at his job. He hadn't even gotten a raise since he started, not a holiday or a thank you, not a fucking pat on the back!

"It's _Derek_."

"What?" The man sat back and crossed his arms, the seams of his jacket stretching at the shoulders.

"My name. Is Derek. Not. Dick." Derek said lowly.

"W-"

"I quit." Derek stood and slammed his company phone on the desk making the red faced bastard jump in his stupid expensive swivel chair.

Derek stormed out before he could hear an answer, he knew he'd need to come back and get the stuff from his cubicle, but he wasn't going to let _anything_ get in the way of his dramatic exit. Especially Jackson who rounded the corner, his baby blue folder tucked under his arm and his hands free flashing against his ear.

"Hey, whats wrong? Boss give you a sp-"

" _Fuck off_ , Jackson!" Derek snapped loud and clear, kicking the door open and briskly making his way down the stairs and out the building.

 

 

                                                                                                             '''''

 

 

In hindsight, marching out of his job half way through the day wasn't exactly the best course of action.

Derek's bag was still in his cubicle and so was his personal phone and jacket. He had let his anger and self pity stew for a while, while taring aggressively in to the cheap hotdog he'd bought with the left over change in his pocket and dabbed at the mustard and red sauce that got on his cheek with brutal force.

Cut to half an hour later and Derek was cold in the middle of New York with not enough money to even get a block away in a taxi and a forming bruise on his face.

Walking back in to the building to get his stuff had been utterly humiliating, much to Jackson's unadulterated glee. Derek did however still keep his head high as he walked back out and all the way to the subway till he got the earliest train home and realized that he was going to have to explain to Kate just exactly why he was home so early.

"Babe, I'm back!" Derek called, from the front door, dropping the box full of his stuff on the floor at the door and following the sound of the shower in to his ensuite bedroom and sitting on the bed, nervously tapping his fingers on the soft unmade linen and waiting for the shower to turn off.

Kate emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around her body and another rubbing at her damp hair.

There was no denying that Kate was gorgeous. She had all the curves in the right places, she was intelligent and sexy and Derek wasn't entirely sure why she took an interest in him in the first place. Derek and Kate had been dating on and off since Derek was nineteen and she still managed to wrap him around her little finger.

Derek couldn't even be embarrassed at how many times he forgave her and let her back in to his life and even though the past couple of months had been...rocky...for the both of them, he still wanted to give it a shot. Sometimes he felt like he was the only one trying, but taking one good look at her, he could see why.

"Hey, what are you doing home so early?" She always did get straight to the point.

Derek considered lying for just a split second, but he as well as everybody else knew that it was stupid to even try and lie to Kate.

Kate let her towel fall and pulled on a pair of panties and her sports bra. She almost looked nonthreatening as she wriggled in to her tank top and slim fitting jeans.

"I quit my job." He blurted.

"What?" Kate's hands stilled over the jean button she had just been about to do up, head snapping up to regard Derek coolly.

Derek cleared his throat and tried to will the hair on his balls to grow back.

"I quit. I quit my job."

"You quite your job?"

"I quit my-"

"Yes. I get it." Kate snapped, buttoning up her jeans and folding her arms across her chest. Kate stared at Derek for a long time. Her green eyes, a few shades darker than Derek's own, narrowed to slits.

Kate stepped closer till she was standing directly in front of Derek. Staring down at him like a predator. Leaning forward she said slowly, "you are going to get your job back. That is if you _want_ me to continue being your girlfriend. Call me when you have."

Smirking she stood and grabbed her bag off Derek's night stand before flouncing out the room and a few seconds later out the front door.

 _Girlfriend?_ Kate had been sleeping with other people for months. Even Derek wasn't naive enough to believe Kate would really take that title, but that was besides the point. Derek was _sick_ of people telling him what to _do_ all the time. However petulant that sounded, he wasn't a child. He was going to be twenty-seven soon and he was still letting his boss and ex-come-fuck-buddy tell him what to do. No way in hell.

Swallowing the guilty desperate feeling in his throat and resisting the urge to call Kate and ask her to come back, Derek rummaged through his bedside table. He yanked the envelope out from the bottom and opened it. Still one return ticket to Norway from his parents, valid and _next week_.

A grin spread over Derek's face and he kissed the plane ticket in his hands. He was going to spend his birthday in Norway on his own and he didn't know what the hell it would be like, but he'd finally be getting some time _alone_.

"Norway, here I come."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo credit: Pola Damonte.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THREE  
 

"I know. Yeah, I mean I'm excited in a way." Stiles patted Lily's back, covered by the cushy padded material of her baby carrier, her weight a little trying on his shoulders as he held his mobile phone to his ear.

The airport was busy. Ridiculously busy. Women and men rushed passed with small wheeled suitcases, staff tried desperately to appease irate individuals and families of five hundred ran and shouted trying to reach their gate on time.

It was noisy and cramped and Stiles thanked whatever snob prioritized passengers traveling first class, taking him away from the hectic commotion with a firm wall of thick, sound proof, black tinted glass.

Stiles looked on at a couple, gesticulating wildly at each other, their voices muted, but their hatred for one another obvious. Stiles turned away and instead focused on the labels of the drinks behind the bar across the room, a few people sitting by it and sipping expensive cocktails and chatting idly.

Scott sighed, his voice raspy with fatigue through the ear piece of Stiles' mobile as he said, "I just wish I could be there to help you out man, I really do, but-"

"Scott it's okay. You've been to every single one, missing this one isn't going to hurt your record."

Scott laughed and Stiles closed his eyes at the sound, he hadn't seen Scott since Lily was born and he really missed his best friend.

Scott had shacked up with Allison and they had a trendy studio apartment now. Stiles hadn't been there yet, but he'd heard it was 'awesome'. It had to be if Scott had agreed to live there. Stiles had been sure he wouldn't at first, but clearly Allison was a little more persuasive than he have her credit for and yes, he knew Scott loved her, it was just that Scott had seemed so unsure at first.

"No, I guess not, Allison's been on my nuts about-"

"Could you wrap it up, we've kind of got a plane to catch." Lydia raised an immaculate eyebrow and stood up from the soft blue sofa beside Stiles and primly straightened out her pencil skirt, drowning out what Scott was saying on the other line.

Stiles nodded. "Hey, Scott. I have to get going now, but I'll text you when we land?"

"Um...yeah...yeah cool, okay. Talk to you later." Stiles hung up the phone and followed Lydia, her heels clacking against the floor, a string of angry Chinese expletives flying out of her mouth. Stiles winced for the sake of whoever was on the receiving end of her hands free rant.

"Let's go, sweetheart." He muttered to a drowsy Lily.

 

 

 

 

 

 '''''

 

 

 

 

 

Derek rolled his eyes. The incessant screech of someones kid still ringing in his ears, even as he settled in to the glorious clinical silence of business class.

All Derek wanted to do was sleep and his spacious reclining seat and complimentary navy blue blanket would definitely help him with that.

One thing that Derek loved about business class was that everybody ignored each other and carried on with their _own_ business. No noise, no fuss, no screaming bratty children.

Derek checked his phone before turning it off. Kate hadn't called and Derek hadn't called her. He didn't want to think about what, or who to be exact, she was doing right now. Derek hadn't gone this long without apologizing and it had only been a few days, but to Derek it felt like decades. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind as the plane began to move.

The plane moved smoothly along the runway gaining speed and momentum. Derek had always loved flying, especially take off and he smiled to himself as the plane got faster and faster. He'd never wanted to be a pilot and the intricacy and mechanics of it never interested him, but the tug of the plane upwards was a thrill he savored.

When they'd finally leveled out in the air, way up above the clouds and life down below, Derek shut the shutter on the window beside him. He plugged in his headphones and shut his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 '''''

 

 

Lily's fist tightened around Stiles' finger in her sleep and Stiles absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand to soothe her.

"We aren't going to Oslo, change of plan." Lydia inspected her manicured nails, her irritation clear in the frown on her fuchsia lips. "We're sticking to the quieter areas, trendy book stores and coffee houses etcetera."

Stiles hummed in answer, far more focused on the clouds outside the window. It was so peaceful. Empty and immense. _It must be so uncomplicated to live out here, just...on your own, drifting around, away from everything. Not having to-_

 _"_ Are you even listening?" Lydia snapped. Stiles gave Lydia an incredulous look and turned back to the window. _  
_

Stiles was glad they were staying away from the city. He didn't want any stress this trip and Bergen looked like the perfect place.

Stiles stiffened as he felt the atmosphere change around Lydia's silence.

"You... _can_ do this you know?" Lydia said softly, sympathetic eyes glancing from Lily to Stiles. Stiles gave her a weak smile and a nod which seemed to be enough for Lydia, starting her off on a tangent about what Stiles should wear.

Stiles silently prayed for an easy flight. Take off had been a little rough, but only because of how much Stiles hated it. He'd panicked more than Lily had, earning himself a quick pinch on the thigh from Lydia to get him to sit still.

A nine hour flight wasn't on Stiles wish list, but he'd have to stick it out and he was going to take full advantage of first class facilities.

The clouds brushed against the window, leaving behind small droplets that shook, clinging with stubborn determination; Stiles tracing his finger from one to the other like a dot to dot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 '''''

 

 

Moss Rygge Airport wasn't as busy as Derek had expected, but then again it was ludicrously early in the morning and also incredibly cold.

Pulling his jacket tighter around himself, Derek made his way toward the coach following the _'Buss Oslo'_ sign, the bright orange _'RYGGE-EXPRESSEN.NO,'_ on the front made Derek smile. It hadn't really sunk in that he was in Norway yet, but he was getting there; the gentle bubble of excitement increasing as he got on the coach.  There were only five other people so Derek took the seat closest to the front, away from them and hoisted his bag on to the seat beside him.

Derek relaxed as the coach traveled towards Oslo on the E6, letting the Akershus and Østfold regions blur together.

One hour, a train and taxi ride later, Derek opened the door to his cousins house. They'd be away for eight weeks and had agreed to let Derek stay and house sit while they were away. It was a nice place, big and tastefully decorated with souvenirs, family photo's and flowers..

The guest bedroom was huge and Derek flopped down on to the bed the minute he saw it. _This_ was what he'd been waiting for.  
Rolling on to his back, Derek took out his phone. One text message from his Mom and nothing else. Sighing he put it back in his pocket and yawned.

This holiday was going to be good for him, it had to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

'''''

Stiles was ready to crash. After a long car ride to Bergen he felt ready to keel over any second on the hotel bed. He had wanted to get a villa somewhere, but Lydia had insisted that they should stay at a hotel and it wasn't as if he couldn't afford to splurge on one. Stiles liked his privacy, that was all, but he had to say the Hotel Park was just the right amount of cozy for him to let it go.

It really was a beautiful room and Lily seemed content as she stuck her foot in her mouth.

"How does someone so small pee so much, huh? _How?_ " Stiles grinned, changing her diaper.

Lily blinked and put her fist in her mouth when Stiles pried her foot out of it.

"This is a nice room right? Do you like it here?" Stiles asked. Lily gurgled softly and Stiles secured her diaper before laying down next to her and lifting her on to his chest. She lifted her head a little before letting it drop, her mouth squished messily against his cheek.

"Kisses? Does Dada get kisses?" Lily made a loud _'ah!'_ in to Stiles ear and fidgeted. 

"Of course you'd have this much energy." Stiles sighed.

Standing up, he took Lily with him over to the window and looked out on to the snow covered city.

It was quiet. Really quiet.

Stiles kissed Lily's forehead. The room was a bit big for just the two of them, and he didn't need half of the things in it, just a bed would have done fine.

Stiles began to feel a bit out of place standing on the edge of this huge room with his baby. _I probably just need to sleep._ Stiles thought and watched the snow fall gently over Bergen.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo credit: Moss Rygge Airport. Johanroed.wikimedia commons.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

Derek took a tentative sip of the yellow liquid in his polystyrene cup. _'Birthday boy'_ scrawled unintelligible on the side, surreptitiously hidden by Derek's hand.

"Lighten _up_ , it's your _birthday_ asshole." Erica huffs from her seat on Boyd's lap. Wiping the lipstick off the side of her mouth, she yells loudly over the booming music, the bass creating ripples in Derek's cup.

"Boyd, tell him to lighten up!" She slurs in way of an order. Boyd shrugs and gives Derek a sympathetic look.

It wasn't his fault they were here. It had been Erica's bright idea to announce to the guests of the house party of someones cousin's, boyfriend's, auntie's, cousin's, brother's, best friend's niece, that Derek didn't know, that it was his birthday.

He'd had his cup thrust in to his hand; a few hard pats on the back and he hoped to God the white half eaten cake on the table wasn't for him. A few cigaret butts put out in the icing beside the colorful wax _'27'_ candle.

Frankly Derek was getting sick of the parties and the commotion. He just wanted to relax and enjoy parts of Norway that weren't the inside of a club or a strangers house he really didn't want to be in.

Two weeks had gone by in a blur and Derek's head was still spinning. If he'd known Erica would be so excited to see him, he'd have come prepared, but he hadn't and he couldn't bring himself to tell her no after not seeing her for so long.

Someone bumped in to Derek's left shoulder, the warm drink sloshing out on to his hand, not giving him time to reply to their ill timed, _"unnskyld meg."_ Tutting and wiping his hand on his jeans, Derek put the cup down. He wasn't in the mood to be here or do anything and yet somehow it was midnight and he was still expected to go to the club afterwards.

It was loud and every room was filled with people he didn't know, all chatting in Norwegian and laughing at jokes he didn't quite get. Derek eyed the cake on the table and contemplated stealing some of the icing on the top. The dusting of cigarette ash however, was enough to turn his stomach. 

As far as Derek was concerned it was going to be a long night.

 

 

 

 

'''''

 

"You promised. You're coming." Lydia snapped. Stiles sighed and switched the phone to his other ear, crossing his left arm over his chest.

Lydia was right, he had promised. Although in the buzz of finally finishing all his signings and press conferences he hadn't really thought it through and the temptation of a sweaty, noisy club, wasn't all that tempting once Stiles finally got back to his hotel room and right frame of mind.

"Look, Lydia-" He began.

"No, Stiles." Lydia cut in, "you are coming tonight and you're going to have fun, do I make myself clear?" Stiles was sure she wasn't just shouting because of the noise coming from the people around her.

Stiles winced. The harsh flash of cameras had been slightly easier to bare.

Holding the phone at a safe distance from his ear, Stiles glanced back at Hannah sitting on the bed playing peek-a-boo with Lily. Lydia had apparently sent her without his consent and despite how much Lydia had tried to reassure Stiles she was a fantastic au pair to her cousins children, he wasn't so sure.

Lily giggled and Stiles turned back to the phone.

He hesitated. "Fine...I'll...I'll be there in an hour."

"Good." Lydia hung up the phone and Stiles listened to the dial tone for a while before shutting it off and tapping it against his lips.

"Hannah?" Stiles sat down on the bed opposite her and she smiled brightly.

Hannah was pretty with blonde hair and kind eyes and Stiles knew he would have picked her to look after Lily himself if he had had the option. He had never left Lily with a babysitter before, not even when his father had offered.

"Are you sure-"

"Ja, Mr Stinilski. It is my job." She chirped and lightly tickled Lily's tummy.

"Stiles. Please." He said looking down at Lily's stuffed dragon on the floor. He could do with the break. Just a few hours Lydia had said, it was late anyway, he didn't have to be there long, but Lily-

Lily giggled and kicked her legs, gurgling animatedly to Hannah who nodded, feigning understanding.

"Do you think I should go?" He asked, frowning. Hannah looked up, Lily's hands held in her own.

Regarding him with clear eyes she politely said, "it is not my place, Mr Stilinski."

One night out wouldn't hurt. Just one. Hannah was clearly more than capable... They were in Oslo after yet another change of plan and would be heading back to Bergen in two days. He supposed he should make the most of it. Oslo was a beautiful city, mostly free of the generous dusting of snow, still crisp and clean in Bergen. As far as Stiles had heard, the night life was good.

"I'll be back in a few hours, no later than three am and I'll pay extra." Stiles finally said despite the dull lump in his throat.

"Thank you." Hannah smiled, but her attention was fully focused on Lily.

Stiles got up and made his way to the bathroom to get ready. The last time he'd been to somewhat of a proper club was when-

Today had been a lot to deal with. Press didn't wait for very long and without Lydia, Stiles wasn't sure how he'd have gotten through it all on a minimal amount of sleep and liters of coffee. He had to adjust.

This was going to be his life now, at least for sometime, till the excitement of his first book dulled down. How they'd react to his second book however, wasn't something Stiles wanted to think about, at least not right now.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, Stiles surveyed his untidy hair and drummed his fingers against the porcelain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

"Excuse me. Sorry, can I just-" Stiles tried to push past the swarm of bodies around him, jumping and swaying and dancing to the ear-splitting music that only seemed to get louder and louder as the night went on.

Stiles darted between two men holding drinks in hues drinks probably weren't supposed to be in and pushed open the fire escape door.

He couldn't stop the sigh of relief when the door shut heavily behind him, just about shutting out the sound and leaving only a soft thrum in the background. The chipped brown door, littered in unrecognizable signatures and crude drawings, vibrating lightly.

"Good idea."

Stiles started and took a step back, almost falling off the small ledge leading down to the sidewalk.

"Sorry, what?" He asked getting his barrings enough to step off the ledge himself and look at the person a few steps away from him, leaning against the wall in a black leather jacket, a rolled cigarette in his mouth.

"I said good idea." They answered, "coming out here I mean."

Stiles nodded and put his hands in his pockets. It was pretty cold out and the drizzle from earlier had turned in to dirty puddles beneath his boots that he toed at absentmindedly.

"It's... not really my thing." Stiles mumbled. The loud screech of an out of tune guitar cut through the gaps in the door accompanied with the roar of the crowd trapped inside.

Stiles huffed, the night air intertwining in white smoke, curling out between his lips, momentarily marring the inky black sky above the street lights like fog.

The 'club' was an old community hall that had been renovated in to a raucous and barely legal heavy metal joint on the outskirts of Oslo. The posters up on the wall were like time stamps in colorful and haphazard layers, all telling a story Stiles didn't know. It was attractive in its own way, but it wasn't Stiles' usual type of hang out spot.

A bright light in his peripheral disrupted his train of thought. Stiles took out his own phone, the picture of Lily's gummy smile and messy hair beamed up at him on the home screen, hurting his eyes and making his heart twinge.

There were no missed calls from Hannah and he'd made sure he wrote his number down a few times on a notebook and put it in to her phone and checked it worked twice.  He didn't mean to be so mistrusting, but Lily was his child.

"You wouldn't happen to know the number for a cab would you?" Came a  dejected sigh from Stiles' right.

Stiles looked up, the light from his phone making him squint, but the pitiful look of the stranger now away from the wall was visible.

  
"Erm, yeah." Stiles scrolled through his phone and landing on the right number.

The guy approached him and began taking the number down, Stiles keeping a safe distance away and gripping his phone tightly. Just because he sounded American and a little bit like home, didn't mean he was trust worthy. He was not much taller than Stiles, slightly more built, but as his Dad would say 'built, but not like a shit house.'

He had short dark brown hair and the street light cast the shadow of his thick eyelashes down his frost bitten cheeks, not too far away from his scruff. The glare from his phone reflected in his eye. Stiles didn't have time to discern the exact color before he was standing up straight with a weary smile on his face.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

The beauty of awkward silences with strangers is the fact that you're keenly aware that it's uncomfortable for the both of you. It opens up a tiny shred of realization that you live a separate life. Outside of each other. For a second you can feel small.

Stiles is getting far too used to people knowing his name and things about him that they've read in a magazine, that aren't always strictly true. He doesn't mind awkward silences because for once he can be the stranger.

Stiles listens as the guy asks for a taxi in broken, accented, Norwegian. It seems to take a long time before the phone is put down with another sigh.

"Snart." Stiles says before he has time to think.

"What?" Stiles balls his hands in to cold fists in his pockets and stares at the lights in the city below the hill, glinting in the distance.

"Soon. In Norwegian," Stiles looks over, he's tired and he just wants to go home now, he misses his daughter and he knew coming here was a bad idea and yet somehow he'd been gone for two hours already. "It might help next time."

"Thanks. I'll consider it my birthday present." Is the slightly dry reply.

"Happy Birthday."

"Only one of the two."

Stiles laughs, his chapped lips parting and receives a wary smile in return. If this had been a few years ago Stiles would have probably flirted, but it isn't and he isn't making those decisions anymore, not when he can't tell his daughter that-

"Derek."

"Excuse me?" Stiles probably shouldn't retreat in to his thoughts as much as he does, but it's become a habit after living with Lily, just by themselves.

"Erm...my name. It's Derek." _'Derek'_ , looked as uncomfortable as he must feel, his hands in his jeans pockets, the collar of his jacket turned uselessly up against the wind.

Stiles hesitates.

"Stiles."

Stiles misses the raised eyebrow, but he's aware it's there. That was a lot of what he got in high school and one good thing about being a published author is that no one questioned his pen name.

A taxi pulls up beside them, the glow of the _'Oslo Taxi'_ light atop the roof is dim, flickering lamely. Derek nods at Stiles before climbing in. He doesn't look again when the taxi leaves.

Stiles stays standing outside for a while, breathing in deeply and exhaling loudly. He scuffs his boots against the gravel and turns back towards the doors.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that's enough writers block don't you?
> 
> I'm so sorry guys! I've been under a lot of pressure and juggling a lot of things lately so didn't get round to updating and when I did it was...lackluster to say the least and although I'm not 100% happy with this, I will go crazy if I don't post SOMETHING. I hope it's okay and my apologies really!  
> Feel free to comment and kudos. Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated Chapter.

 

                                                

                                                                                                   CHAPTER FIVE

 

" _Shit._ Scott. _Fuck_. I'm gonna come!" Allison whines, her legs around Scott's back, tight while he work himself in and out of her. Faster, hitting hard against the place inside her that makes her scream and scratch angry welts down his back.

He winces at the bite of her nails and then her teeth against his shoulder, her hips arching.The condom slips slightly and Scott scrambles to keep it in place.

Allison had already begun to get suspicious about his excuses for wearing it. He says it's because he slept with people unprotected when they broke up and that line is wearing thin like her patience.

She almost drove him to the clinic herself and he couldn't begin to describe the relief he felt when work had called and asked Allison to be in earlier than usual while Scott silently hyperventilated in the passenger seat, because Allison refused to let him drive her car anywhere further than the corner store. 

If she found out he hadn't caught anything he'd have no other excuse. He got tested when she took him back, he knows he isn't infected, but he can't tell her that. He fucks her with the condom on.

Stifling her scream as she comes, Scott lifts her hips upwards, pushing deeper inside. Waves of intense pleasure, spreading like her pale thighs, all along her body, making her shake and shudder.

Allison gasps for air as she settles down, her breasts rising and falling slower against his chest, her hard dark nipples tickling his skin as the buzz tapers off.

Scott slowly pulls out of her with a practiced wince. The layer of sweat between them making them both shiver as the cold air of their bedroom mists over them both. Settling down on his stomach beside her, Scott lifts the sheet over her carefully. She sighs contentedly and meets his brown eyes.

"Did you come?" She asks, her fingertips brushing damp strands of his hair off his forehead before placing them back by her side. He nods. His cock throbs underneath him, full and almost painful in the moist condom. Scott grimaces at the thought and waits till Allison pecks him on the mouth and turns on to her side. She never liked cuddling after sex, complaining that it was too hot for that.

"I just need to use the bathroom." Scott keeps his voice steady but quiet as if, if he talked loud enough, she'd know exactly why. Allison makes a disgruntled noise of acknowledgement and Scott awkwardly maneuvers out of bed, side stepping then turning quickly, cupping himself as he walks in to the bathroom shutting the door and flicking on the light.

Scott yanks the condom off with an all to loud snap of cold latex, still coated with Allison's clear sheen, already drying. He throws it in the trash and sits on the closed lid of the toilet seat.

He would get in the shower if he could. If he knew Allison wouldn't ask, he would turn on the water to almost scalding hot and wrap his fingers around his throbbing purpled cock just like he is doing now. He bites back a sigh, god it feels so good to feel the roughness of his palm against his foreskin, dragging it up and down as he begins to pump himself quickly. He can't take too long _and he needs to cum already_.

Scott closes his eyes and lets his mouth fall open, thumb sliding over the head. He wants to call Issac, hear his husky drawl down the phone, but Issac will know why he's calling. His imagination will do for now, images of Issac sprawled out underneath him, arching upwards.

Scott bites his lip, gently kneading his balls, trying not to sob at the feeling, he can _feel it_ , he can feel the pooling sensation in his abdomen and the tug at his pelvis, it feels so fucking good and he _needs_ it, he needs to cum, his eyelashes wet in frustration. He can almost feel Issac's hand wrapped around his shaft, stopping him from coming, _not just yet_ , he'd whisper in to Scott's ear, keeping his chest firmly against Scott's back.

Scott jerks, thinking of being inside Issac, thinking of Issac deep inside him, the way his name sounds on Issac's lips when he does it and-

  
Scott slaps his free hand over his mouth, moaning quietly in to it, his thighs shaking, greedily inhaling through his nose.

 _Shit_ , he thinks loudly, ropes of sticky ejaculate spurting from his cock and running thickly down his clenched fist as he rocks in to it, in to the white heat in his chest and between his legs.

He grits his teeth stopping any sound at the jolt of over stimulation.

"Scott, you okay in there?" Allison calls, her voice muffled by the door and probably her pillow. He lets go of his cock and clears his throat, quickly turning on the tap beside him.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, just cleaning up! I...couldn't get the condom off!" _Fast enough,_ his mind supplies.

He hears her laugh, "what are you like!" Another phrase she picked up while she was with her family in Ireland a few months ago. It sounds strange in her American accent.

It agitates him because it sounds like a question, but it's not and it just doesn't make any sense. What _is_ he like? Untrustworthy is a word that pops in to his head often, as well as ' a bastard' and 'an asshole.' Either seems to work.

Washing his dick then his hands thoroughly, Scott avoids his reflection in the vanity mirror. He doesn't feel incredibly vain right now and he doesn't really want to see his ashamed expression accusing him with a clean gleam.

Allison loves the mirror and he's sure that and the spacious closet were the only reasons she was willing to fork out so much money for the apartment, but it's a nice place. Spacious, maybe sometimes too much and modern. Scott dries his hands and wills the heat from his cheeks to subside.

He turns off the light and makes his way back to the bedroom, the bedside lamp glowing dim. Allison turns towards the door as he walks in. He feels a spike of insecurity as she looks him up and down with a sultry half smile. He never used to feel self conscious in front of her, but he finds himself grateful for the mercy of the light sheet around his waist when he climbs back in to bed with her.

Scott kisses Allison's nose and she gives him a warning look before smiling, bathing in the light orange glow of the paper lantern over the bulb. It was from the festival they went to last year in Europe and it didn't take off up in to the air like everyone else's, so they blew out the candle so it wouldn't catch alight and kept it.

Scott doesn't turn over. He wants to. She's so beautiful, frighteningly so. Her hazel eyes dark and enchanting, her hair tousled and falling attractively in to her face, pale with a faint tint of pink by her cheekbones, deep dimples and kiss bitten lips.

He hates the guilt more than anything.

Allison finally turns over after a while, moving slightly closer to him, but not touching. He squeezes her hip lightly and lets go, tucking his hand under his head knowing he isn't going to get much sleep tonight.

 

**'''''**

 

Scott walks to work. Issac hasn't texted or called. He doesn't often, but Scott still checks every half hour.

Scott dips his hand in his pockets and wraps his hands around his phone out of habit, a comfort as he crosses the street.

Scott's building isn't extremely far and he can see the gleam of the large windows a few blocks away. There's a 9am spin class he offered to take and he's glad for the distraction.

The good thing about the spin class is that he doesn't have to participate. He loves his job, but he doesn't feel up for being a shining example of athleticism today. Having worked at the gym for a solid two years now is something Scott knows he should be proud of. He'd barely stayed in a  job for more than six months and he's managed to hold this one down and get promoted to senior staff.

Scott's phone chimes in his pocket as he crosses the street: _'k, maybe spend the day with Lil.'_ Scott didn't really know what to reply, Stiles was obviously busy by the shortness of the text, but he didn't have a right to be upset about it.

Stiles was busy, he was successful and important now, Scott was just glad they were still friends. He slipped his phone back in to his pocket inside the elevator, grateful for the air conditioning. It was blistering hot outside and even Scott's loose uniform black polo shirt and khaki shorts didn't give him any respite from the LA heat. It was ridiculously hot for this time of year and Scott made a mental note to pay attention to Allison's Geography documentaries on climate change and Ingunna's in captivity.

"A little early aren't we Scotty boy?" Jason called from behind the reception desk, grinning toothily as Scott stepped out of the elevator. Scott smiled back and lent against the counter, tapping idly at the surface.

" I've got the spin class today. Covering for Susie." He said to the top of Jason's head as the other guy browsed through the booking sheets for the day.

Jason looked up and squinted, "wasn't Lee supposed to do that?" He asked and began scribbling down messy notes beside the time stamped _'17:45, Aqua Aerobics'._

"I offered." Scott shrugged, pushing himself off the counter and unfolding his arms to stretch them above his head. _  
_

"That was nice of you." Jason raised a blond eyebrow, shutting the book.

"Not really, I-"

"There's enough time for your hen meeting when you're on your breaks ladies." Finstock, manager and personal trainer hollered far too loudly as he approached through the double door leading in to the changing rooms.

Jason rolled his eyes and Scott suppressed a smile, he took some getting used to, but Finstock was a good guy really, he'd given Scott the job in the first place.

"Yes, Couch." Scott saluted and dodged a pointed finger at his chest.

"Don't get fresh McCall or I'll have to bench you." He barked through a smile.

All the other staff members had taken to calling him Couch, partly due to his astounding number of Lacrosse analogies and some drunken story about the Virgin Islands from last years Christmas party that everyone had collectively decided to forget in favor of more eggnog and less talking.

"What's my schedule for today, Long?" He turned his intense stare on Jason, who reflexively moved back in his chair.

"Same as yesterday, Couch. Mrs Parke at one and Zumba at eleven."

"I think she's stalking me." Finstock mused aloud. "No, really." Finstock insisted at Scott and Jason's groans. "This is the fifth appointment this week and she's stopped talking about her husband and started talking about how she likes her eggs in the morning and how did she know I drive a Corolla?" He looked utterly perplexed.

"Maybe because you gave her a lift last week?" Jason sighed, pulling out his phone.

"Whatever, say what you will, but when they find me naked bound and gagged in the back of my own trunk, don't come crying." Finstock nodded, looking put out.

"Thanks for that visual," Scott said dryly, "I really need that, help me start the day and all." He dodged another poke and excused himself to get set up.

The spin room was quiet, the wall mirrors shiny and reflecting the heavy stream of light through the large windows that Scott stood on his tiptoes to open one by one. The wood floor squeaked under his shoes and smelled faintly of polish.

The bikes were already set up and Scott busied himself with the CD's and stereo. He was in between picking either Ministry of Sound or Carly Rae Jepsen when his phone buzzed.

"Hello?"

"Hi." Issac's low voice greets. 

"Oh, h-hey. Hi." Scott winces, letting go of the phone to quickly slide the CD in and shut it. Ministry of Sound. He grasped it again as Issac's soft laugh curled in his ear.

Scott stood and brushed the invisible dust off his shorts, leaning against one of the mirrors and catching his own eye in the adjacent one.

"Hello, Scott." Issac pauses. "...You text me?" He prompts when Scott doesn't reply, mouth hanging open slightly.

"Uh, yeah." Scott swallowed. "I did, didn't I." Maybe two or twelve times, who was counting right?

"Well...?" He sounded amused and Scott sighed, letting out a large gust of air in to the quiet room.

"I was wondering if...if you were free this weekend? As in, to see me, to see you. For me to see you. At your place." Scott pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, cursing the jittery feeling in his stomach and his inability to speak like a normal human being.

"I've got work, but if you don't mind waiting around a few hours, I'm free Saturday morning and afternoon."

"Yeah! Great! I- I don't mind. Is that okay?"

Issac laughs again and Scott bites his lip. "It's perfect. It'll be nice to have you all to myself." Issac practically purrs and no no _no_ , Scott can not get a hard on literally five minutes before his class.

"Yeah," Scott breaths, "prefect."

"See you Saturday." Issac hung up before Scott could say anything, leaving Scott with his phone still pressed to his ear and taking in his flushed reflection. He felt that familiar crawl of excitement in his throat mingling with the all too familiar swell of shame.

"Perfect."

 

**'''''**

****

 

 

 

Stiles pushed the stroller along the street slowly, thick clumps of snow sticking to the wheels and the edges of Stiles' boots.

Lily cooed in her stroller seat as Stiles kept up a running commentary about the endless cluster of street stalls filling the space on the sidewalk and lights twinkling in the shops and boutiques that Lydia had disappeared in to earlier.

Grünerløkka was colorful and vibrant in a relaxed muted way that only a small district could provide. People chatted all around them, sipping at warm polystyrene cups full of coffee or tea, eating freshly cooked stall food and sampling cheeses and wines; skimming through hand knitted jumpers and trinkets they didn't need, but bought anyway for future nostalgia and left on shelves or in their boxes. It was nice.

Stiles maneuvered the buggy through a crowed of loud students in thick coats and settled in front of a busker strumming on his guitar. Lily squealed happily as he sang raspy notes in soothing Norwegian and smiled at her.

Stiles stood and looked around himself as Lily tried to clap her hands. It was pretty full, but it was strangely nice to be among such a large crowd of people, especially when they weren't trying to take his picture or ask him to sign something.

One of the last spots they'd gone to for the press conferences had been the 'Sound of Mu' a chilled out venue that sold good coffee and only allowed for a more mature crowd and less flashing lights and Stiles had fallen in love with Grünerløkka a little bit. Even Lydia had been surprised when Stiles had suggested they spend the day roaming the markets and shops.

Stiles dug in to his pocket for a few pennies and notes that he dropped in to the open guitar case, acknowledging the nod of thanks as he moved the stroller away, Lily becoming restless. She liked to keep moving, as long as it was Stiles doing the work.

"What have we got here then?" Stiles asked her, stopping at a stall with fleecy looking baby clothes and hats, tiny mittens hanging on pieces of string above the small marquee.

The vendor gave him a cursory glance before turning back to her magazine, burying her nose in her scarf and letting him look in peace. 

"There you are!"  Almost peace. Lydia popped up beside him, her hands overflowing with colorful bags and what looked like two boxes. How she carried it all, he had no idea. "I've been looking all over for you, I got a few things, they have this little gem round the corner, pretty much all straight off the rack stuff, it's _divine_."

Stiles watched her look at the items in the stall around them and wrinkle her nose before turning to face him.

"You drag us here and then only look for more baby clothes?" Lydia raised an imperious ginger eyebrow.

She always liked to poke fun at Stiles inability to drag himself away from being 'Parent Stiles' for less than a few seconds, if at all, and always seemed to find himself near places catering for the under five's.

"And _you_ only look at more clothes." Stiles teased back, poking at the bulging red shopping bag closest to him. Lydia sniffed and tossed her strawberry hair over her shoulder.

"It's designer." Lydia said as way of explanation and Stiles wasn't going to pretend to understand and dropped it in favor of moving on to the next stall, a collection of used and old CD's and records of Norwegian artists.

"Why don't you go grab a coffee or something? Look around more?" Lydia asked after a long silence. That cautious edge to her voice creeping back in.

"I already had two cups earlier and I don't see a bathroom near by." He answered not looking up from the record he held in his hand, scanning over the back of the sleeve and picking up a few words here and there, it looked a little depressing.

"Then go look for something else to do, I saw some cardigans that would do wonders for your eyes."

"Cardigans." Stiles intoned. Lydia rolled her eyes and gave Stiles a pointed look; adjusting the strap of the back pack on his shoulder and moving the buggy backwards a bit so Lily's grabbing hands couldn't snag the vintage camera teetering on the edge of the table, he gave her one right back.

"You know what I mean." Lydia tapped an impatient foot on the ground and nudged Stiles' hand off the handles of the stroller, slipping her bags on to them instead. "You're staying here while I spend some quality time with my God Daughter."

Stiles sighed, not even looking for room to argue as he slid the diaper bag off his shoulder and placed it in Lydia's outstretched hand.

"We'll meet you back at the hotel at eight." Lydia gave a satisfied grin and span on her heel, moving far too fast through the crowd with all that baggage, Lily crowing happily, leaving Stiles to stare after them till they blended in to the crowd.

Turning back to the stall, Stiles didn't find it that interesting anymore and shoved his hands in his pocket moving on to the stall a few over with what looked like band and slogan T-shirts for sale. Stiles picked up one and held it out to look at.

"Kukskalle?"

Stiles turned around to see who had spoken behind him.

"I don't think you want to buy that." Stiles recognized him as the guy from the club, Derek, pointed with a smile at the word written on the shirt Stiles had picked out, ' _Kukskalle_ ' scrawled in white font on the black fabric.

"I guess not." Stiles smiled politely, putting it back. He could see in the minimal day light that the grey sky allowed that Derek's eyes were in fact green.

"Thanks." Derek picked up a T-shirt from the same rack and looked at it critically, not looking at Stiles. "For letting me use your phone."

"Not a problem, it was your birthday present anyway. Unless of course you want that T-Shirt?" Stiles retorted dryly.

"I think I'll pass." Derek browsed through the shirts some more.

"No really, I can take a hint, if that's what you really wanted I'm sure we can negotiate." Stiles laid on the sarcasm thickly with a friendly quirk to his lips.

Derek laughed and picked out a different shirt, 'Norge. Ronkefjes' in large sown capitals on the white breast pocket.

"I think I'll buy myself this one as a present, what do you think?" Derek held up the shirt to his body, feigning interest. Stiles hummed and pretended to mull it over.

"Hmm, it's not really your color." He concluded laughing as Derek made a face that said 'Alas' and put it back.

"Can I at least buy you a coffee to thank you?" He asked, meeting Stiles eye.

"Errm..." Stiles hesitated, unsure of how to answer.

"You can say no." Derek smiled and it wasn't that Stiles didn't want to, he did, Derek was attractive in a rugged put together sort of way and his leather jacket was hugging his biceps perfectly, but-

"I'd love to." He bit out before he could change his mind.

Looking slightly taken aback, Derek nodded and they left the stall.

 

**''''**

 

"This is to die for." Stiles moaned around a large spoonful of the vanilla caramel and hazelnut ice cream sundae he'd ordered, complete with chocolate sauce, marshmallows and small wedges of gooey warm brownie pieces.

"If you think that's good you should try their apple pie." Derek hummed around his big cup of coffee, his own brownie half finished in front of him.

"I'm not sure I should or I won't want to leave." That wouldn't be the only reason. Derek had been really good company.They'd chatted about Norway, Home, which for Derek was a smaller foresty area in California where his parents and the rest of his family still were.

They'd talked about comic books, the Marvel fanboy that Stiles was, and traded funny high school stories. It was...nice. It wasn't often Stiles go to spend time with other adults aside from his usual entourage and not that he didn't love them all, but it had been a while, especially with Lily, since he actually spent any time conversing that didn't involve the topic of baby formula or deadlines.

"My Mum rented the place out for my sister's fifteenth a few years back, she loves it here." Derek smiled fondly at the memory.

 It had been a good decade since they had a proper family holiday and Derek vaguely remembered Laura's birthday all those years ago and the way her face had lit up as they brought the biggest cake complete with sparklers out to their table. Derek who had quite the sweet tooth; ate a little too much and ended up throwing up in his aunts handbag, but it was a great day altogether.

"You come here a lot?" Stiles said through a mouthful of cold melty goodness.

"We used to, a few times. My grandparents were here for a while for their retirement before they moved back to Beacon Hills. I was kind of young, but I remember a good bit of those holidays."

Derek broke off a bite of his brownie and savored the rich taste and soft texture. He found himself missing his Mum's brownies slightly, only she made them as good as this and the ones he had bought in New York were always slightly too cakey or greasy and Kate wasn't exactly the baking type and Derek still had some unaired grievances with the electric whisk.

"My Mum stayed here for a while in college for a year, she doesn't say it, but she's probably itching to come back." A flicker of guilt made Derek a little uneasy, he probably should have asked her if she wanted to come. He hadn't seen her properly in a year and a half and he'd missed all the holidays because of work.

"My Mum loved Africa, she'd only been once in her life, but I think she would have probably wanted to retire there." Stiles added, he wondered what his Mum would have thought of Norway.

Claudia had always been a restless soul, she loved to travel and be on the move and she'd always be back and forth from the US to Poland as often as she could, making stops in Europe if she could. He would have loved to share this with her, actually making something of himself. He was a little hopeless at the start of school and didn't really have any goals, it was a shame she was missing it all.

Derek noted the use of past tense and felt even more rueful, he really should call his Mum. "I've been to Namibia and Zanzibar and I can see why." Derek was aware he was more privileged than most and the opportunities he'd been given always sounded that much more when he said them out loud.

Stiles hummed and glanced out the window, holding the spoon in his mouth. The light made his brown eyes shimmer a syrupy gold and the sweet upturn of his nose and scattering of moles against his pale skin did something to Derek's stomach that wasn't all that unpleasant. Of course until he remembered Kate.Derek still hadn't called or text her and neither had she. He didn't really know if he could call what they were having a break up because, yeah they lived together most days, but they, well Kate, wasn't exactly exclusive and they'd never really been a proper couple, but he still wasn't sure what to make of it. He did love her in his own way, she was just difficult sometimes. He remembered the way she'd smirked at him from his best friends bed last summer and quelled the feeling of guilt rising in his throat.

"That must have been amazing. I've traveled a lot recently, more than I have in other years because of my job, but I definitely want to do more at some stage." Stiles turned back to his ice cream and Derek. His mind had wondered to Lily and he'd tried to stop himself fretting over her safety, he knew Lydia was trustworthy, more than, but he couldn't help it. However, Derek was pleasant company and Stiles was glad he'd accepted, if a little unsure.

Stiles looked at Derek across from him. He was unfairly drop dead gorgeous, clutching his mug between large tanned hands, his maroon long sleeve shirt, complete with thumb holes, fit him even better than the leather jacket he'd draped over his chair. Stiles regular plaid shirt paling in comparison.

"What's your job?" Derek sipped at his coffee again.

Stiles finished the bite of chewy marshmallow before replying, "I work in publishing. I guess you could say it opens up a lot of opportunities." Stiles was a little unsure why he hadn't just told Derek he was an author, Derek didn't seem the type to make a fuss over something like that, but a part of him wanted to keep it to himself.

A little anonymity wasn't a bad thing and Derek was still a stranger, a stranger that he was spending time with instead of his kid, so he owed it to Lily to at least be tactful. At least that's what his brain had formulated anyhow.

"I work- _worked_ in PR. We get a lot of publishing gigs, maybe you've been to one of my events." Derek pondered, it was possible, they had numerous links in Chicago and it wasn't uncommon to bump in to clients from their sister firms.

"Maybe," Stiles muttered, he was almost finished with his ice cream already and he wasn't entirely sure where he'd put it all, but grateful it wasn't down his shirt. "Worked?" Stiles smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"Caught that huh?" Derek laughed, pushing the folded paper napkin in front of himself and fiddling with the edges of the obscure shape. "I quit before coming here. There's only so much a person can take."

"Tell me about it." Stiles sympathized. He'd only been at it for a few months and he was already getting tired of it all.

It wasn't that Stiles didn't appreciate the publicity and support, it was all just a little much. He was an author not a movie star and one of the things he'd loved about literature was that anonymity an author has, when their photo and brief life story wasn't plastered to the back pages and you were never sure if the author using initials was male or female, what ethnicity or political standpoint or shoe size they had and it didn't matter.

Glancing at the clock, Stiles was startled to see it was already past seven. They had been here for a few hours. Stiles bit his lip and fidgeted. Lily would be missing him, she never went that long without him.

"Do you need to go?" Derek broke through Stiles train of thought with a look of kind concern and Stiles smiled back weakly and nodded.

"I had fun. It was nice." He replied, feeling a little guilty for rushing off out of the blue.To his surprise Derek just smiled and made a noise of agreement.

"I'm going to head to the bathroom, but yeah. It was nice." Derek stood and made his way to the bathroom, leaving Stiles gawking slightly after his retreating back and back down to the table.

Stiles began to put his scarf on and hesitated.

When Derek got back, much to his disappointment, Stiles was already gone. Derek sat down to finish his coffee and looked out the window.

It was getting darker outside, the street lights getting brighter and the streets emptier than before, the horde of stalls packed up for the day and the masses filtering in to bars and restaurants or home.

Derek picked up his napkin and just as he was about to ball it up, a hasty black scrawl over the red caught his eye. A cluster of numbers, clearly a phone number. Derek smiled and slipped it in to his pocket.

 

                                         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errm...errr...I...erm...
> 
>  
> 
> er...
> 
>  
> 
> Kukskalle = Dickhead  
> Norge. Ronkefjes = Norway. Wanker face.


	6. Chapter 6

  

CHAPTER SIX

 

Stiles got to the hotel with a half smile on his face, he only succeeded in getting rid of half of the full one on the way back. He was needless to say, nervous. He wasn't intending to do anything with Derek and Derek hadn't said anything about meeting again, but Stiles had been bold, for the first time in a long while.  
  
"What are you grinning about?" Lydia remarked the minute he stepped through the door.  
  
"Nothing." Stiles smiled wider, just to annoy her. Making his way to the bed where Lydia sat, Stiles settling down beside a sleeping Lily. Lily's tiny back rising and falling as she slept, a soft gurgling snore leaving her mouth.  
  
"What's his name?" She nudged him with her foot and he petulantly nudged her back, eye fixed on his daughter, ever so gently brushing the hair on the back of her head with his fingertips.  
  
"It doesn't matter what his name is." Stiles sniffed, half reminding himself. The bubble of excitement that had following him home slowly tapered off in to a warm affection directed straight at his sleeping baby girl.

It didn't matter what his name was because Stiles had what he needed right here, tucked snugly under a knitted blanket. Stiles loved her so much. He missed her and he hadn't got to tell her goodnight because he'd been out and she had probably missed him too. She loved her aunty Lydia, but she didn't spend much time with her without Stiles there.  
  
"Stiles."  
  
"Lydia."  
  
Stiles looked up at her, her makeup washed off and her hair pulled back in to a neat high ponytail, her scathing look watered down by the pink hello kitty barrette keeping her bangs out of her eyes and her fluffy white hotel robe and slippers. Stiles was also sure that a soap opera had been on the television before it was switched to a drab looking talk show.  
  
"His name is Derek and it's not important." Stiles summarized, getting off the bed and wandering in to the bathroom.  
  
"I'm one of your best friends, and I'm technically your boss. Don't hold off vital information." She sniffed primly and Stiles huffed an exasperated laugh as he undressed, her voice traveling through the slight gap in the door. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him naked before, but he had been drunk and he ended up unable to move his legs for three days afterwards. He had been a really stupid kid. College only added to it with the introduction of conquests and keggers. He reminded himself that it wasn't exactly that long ago.  
  
Stiles regarded his reflection in the mirror. His eyes traveled down his body as Lydia spoke.  
  
"You're allowed to have a little fun you know. You can trust me with Lily, I'm not going to drop her."  
  
"That's reassuring." Stiles muttered, loud enough for her to hear as his eyes slid down his chest and over his abdomen and hips, the silvery streaks on skin and the thin jagged scar just above his pelvis a good enough reminded as to how much of a stupid kid he'd been.

Stiles' repressed the urge to sigh and rubbed his face. He felt suddenly very tired. He stepped in to the shower and turned the water up to just below scalding and stood under the heavy spray.

Stiles didn't get to be selfish anymore, not like how he was, he couldn't do that to Lily. He washed away his thoughts down the drain and roughly rubbed them away with the soft fluffy towel before slipping in to the other bathrobe.  
  
Lydia remained on the bed, intently watching the TV, now back to the channel with the soap opera flickering on the screen and slid in to the space beside Lily. He gently held her close and nestled his nose against the junction between her neck and shoulders and breathing in. She smelt like baby powder and fresh linen and just her.  
  
"I do trust you with her." Stiles mumbled.  
  
Lydia muted the TV and looked at him. Her brow creased ever so slightly.  
  
"I know. But you need your space as much as she does, Stiles. I'm saying this as your friend."  
  
Stiles nodded.  
  
Lydia pursed her lips before nodding back and unmuting the TV.  
  
It was easier said than done. Lydia would understand if she even decided to have kids of her own. It's...different, once the baby arrives.  
  
Stiles sighed and didn't comment on Lydia staying in his room and slowly he let his eyes droop, he was almost asleep when he vaguely registered his phone buzz twice on the bedside table. He ignored it and let the comforting swoop of sleep lull him unconscious.

 

'''''

 

Scott toes off his shoes at the door, leaving his socks on so as not to get the full brunt of the cold shiny hardwood flooring.

Issac doesn't seem to have this problem as he leans barefoot, over the kitchen island, papers and once rolled up A3 posters spread out around him, only looking up briefly as Scott closes the door behind him. The pen in his mouth, tight between his teeth explains the slight muffled 'come in' Scott had gotten when he'd knocked on the door. Scott leaves his bag on the sofa and walks the long distance of the open plan apartment and joins Issac on the opposite side of the counter, peering at his work but not understanding much of it.

Issac alternates between work and study most of the time, he wants to become an architect, never got the grades in school, but managed to save up enough to redo some subjects and get in to collage. The pages in front of him are a series of drawings and floor plans that look intricate, labeled with small neat numbers and quick notes and initials Scott doesn't get.  
  
Issac takes the pen out of his mouth and draws a neat line leading out of one of them with a clear Flexi ruler.  
  
"How was your day?" He asks, not taking his eyes off his work, hand moving quickly and printing more words along the line.  
  
"Good...not much happened." It was only twelve in the afternoon, most weekends Scott isn't even up by then.

He feels a bit guilty considering Issac's probably been working for a good few hours already. But Scott really doesn't have much else to do, he isn't as busy as Issac, doesn't have as many hobbies or goals just yet, other than replacing the milk later on. Issac hums, surveying his work with steely eyes.  
  
Scott's eyes flicker up to the Polaroids scattered in neat rows along the wall behind and to the right over Issac's shoulder. His photowall filled with pictures of places and people and an Issac Scott doesn't know.

It's a glimpse in to a life he's never been fully part of since meeting him. It's strange, as though he's looking at another person with the same face. He's never seen Issac like that, his arm thrown over a friends shoulders, a broad grin on his face as another kisses his cheek, the outrageous Halloween snapshots and holiday photo's. It feels almost wrong, voyeuristic for Scott to look at them, as if he's not allowed. Memories Scott is always too afraid to ask about, he isn't sure why, he just is. He looks down at his hands instead.  
  
Issac puts his pen down. He stretches before yawning and scratching the patch of exposed skin under his shirt that Scott's eyes follow. His eyes meet Scott's. Scott doesn't ask about Issac's day because he already knows and Issac's concentrating, he's practically unconscious to the outside world when he is, it's almost scary when that attention get diverted elsewhere, to other people, to Scott. It's almost palpable.  
  
"Sorry, I just had some stuff to go over, my assignments due in a week and I've got double shifts." He explains. His grey T-shirt is loose, but stretched over his broad shoulders, his dark blue jeans are unbuttoned and he looks relaxed. Effortless as if he barely ever has a care in the world, his sandy blond curls in a gorgeous thick mess like he's been running his hands through it. A habit he has along with chewing pens.  
  
"It's okay, if you're busy I don't want to...get in the way." Scott felt selfish sometimes, he knows his tone is pathetic and needy. However Issac always responds as if it's no big deal, as if Scott isn't asking too much from him.

Issac makes his way around the counter island and takes Scott by the upper arms with a sigh, spinning him to face one another. He looks down at Scott with a smile on his lips, Scott blinking back up at him as if any sudden movement will scare him away.  
  
"I said," Issac begins softly, "I'm free for you on Saturday. It's Saturday." He's teasing and Scott looks down to hide his flushed cheeks, focusing on the hem of the ankles of Issac's jeans. Issac tilts his head up with his forefinger.  
  
"I said I want you all to myself and I intend to do just that. You're not getting in the way of anything" His thumb strokes the side of Scott's cheek, making him shiver under the attention. The calm drawl something Scott hates to admit he likes.  
  
Issac's hands slide to hold Scott around the waist, resting his forehead against his lightly.  
  
"Now, am I going to have you to myself?" He mutters, nudging Scott's nose with his, keeping his lips barely a centimeter away from Scott's.  
  
"Urr...I-" Scott takes a deep breath. Issac's arm around his waist tugging him closer and closer till he's pressed to him, hot and secure against his chest, hips trying not to stutter. Scott nods, his cheeks getting even brighter with color, brown eyes searching Issac's light blue. Back and forth between the two a little too fast.  
  
"Good." Issac kisses him and Scott shuts down.

'''''

 

"If you check your phone any more, I'm going to break it." Erica smirked, her arms crossed over her chest, the bright yellow smiley 'barneklubb' in bubble writing and the grinning yellow sun on her pink t-shirt ruined the effect some what. Derek squints at her and put his phone back in his pocket, the light leaking in from the edge of roof, shinning directly on to his spot on the deck just outside the creche.  
  
"I'm surprised you even noticed with the way you've been ogling Boyd for the past twenty minutes." Derek bit back without any venom.

It was sweet really, the way Erica watched as Boyd was turned in to a human climbing frame by the squealing children at the kids club. Boyd helped out at the club as much as he could when he wasn't working. He was certainly better with the kids than most of the teenage staff who frequented the place during the summer months.  
  
"I wasn't ogling." Erica mumbled, folding her arms over her chest, she lent against the door frame, facing away from Derek, watching as Boyd roared theatrically and hoisted three children in to the air at once, all erupting in to fits of giggles and squeals. A small smile tugged at her lips.

Boyd was so good with kids, she knew he wanted some of his own at some point, happy to wait until the right time. Erica's smile faltered, the right time wasn't exactly a luxury she had anymore. Erica looked away, focusing on Derek who scuffed the soles of his sneakers against the wooden steps.  
  
"What's got you all forlorn?" She asked, but she knew the answer to an extent.  
  
"Nothing." Derek sighed. Erica knew him well enough and he knew her well enough to know never to push it when 'nothing' was wrong.

They both liked to figure things out on their own, their combined tactic of introspection was why they were such good friends up until now. Sometimes talking about important things wasn't what either of them needed and maybe that was unhealthy, but they both deserved a break.

The door slowly fell shut behind Erica and she pushed herself off of the door frame, lazily shuffling her feet towards Derek and taking a seat on the step, he followed and they sat looking out on to the drab snow dirtied path leading on to the main road. The 'club house' as they had been told to call it at all times, was probably not in the best location. The kids liked to run and having a main road near by didn't stop them.  
  
The afternoon wind whipped the loose hair around Erica's face, a few strands catching on her ears and her long ponytail swishing just a bit, the weight only slightly ticklish against her back. She drew her knees up closer and rested her chin on them, hands wrapping around her calves.

Derek sat with one foot two steps below the other, stretching out his left leg, his right almost as tall as Erica when she hunched over like that. He stared resolutely ahead. For a main road there weren't many cars at this time. Sometimes it was deathly quiet, a mist would roll in in the mornings and blur the end of the road, make it look endless as the rest of the mist encased the clubhouse in a still imitation of smoke. It was unnerving. Erica opened the windows wide on those days, sometimes the mist would block the windows out entirely, only the headlights of cars visible.  
  
"Have you told him yet?" Derek asked, letting his right leg stretch out beside his left. It left Erica feeling exposed, like she could topple sideways any minute without that barrier there.  
  
Erica hummed, Derek already knew the answer, it was obvious from the smile on Boyd's face, the constant ease in his walk. What was she going to say? I feel like getting pizza tonight I'd like pepperoni, mushrooms and a longer life expectancy, thanks babe?  
  
"He deserves to know, Erica." Derek said matter-of-factly, it wasn't an invitation for an argument, it was just a fact that she and Derek, her sister and her Doctor knew. As well as the rest of the medical staff and already that felt like too many people knowing, a gross invasion of her privacy, too many people counting for her when she forgot to or refused to, they would still have their timers on and there was nothing she could do about it.

The snow was disgusting on days like this, when it refused to snow or rain or do anything but be grey. It was almost nauseating, but then again that could be the new medication, or the breakfast she ate this morning. The crystal white perfection that glittered so obnoxiously regardless of lighting, pretty at all angles just turned in to dark sludge, slippery and a nuisance, not clean enough or thick enough for the kids to play in and too dangerous for the parents to drive through meaning Erica had to walk them all out to the side of the road so they could jump in their cars and leave her to shuck muddy ice out of her boots once they'd all gone.  
  
"We should do something before you go." Erica mused aloud. Derek was leaving in a day and a half and she wasn't sure when she was going to see him again, not like that, just...she wasn't traveling to America for a while yet and she wasn't sure if Derek would be visiting soon, judging by the few phone calls she'd overheard during the last week, he's got a lot to deal with back home.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"There's a party tomorrow." Erica mumbled, she knew Derek hated the parties, but he'd go anyway. It gave her time to take her mind off things and he was the only one of her friends to agree every time, to know she needed the distraction and the normality.

Erica was a girl in her twenties, it wasn't out of the norm for her to go partying every weekend or get drunk and have copious amounts of sex with her super hot boyfriend, it was exactly what she would have done before she found out. She reminded herself of this fact as she scuffed her slightly damp shoes on the edge of the wood step.  
  
"Text me." Derek said in lieu of confirmation. He wouldn't let her down, she knew that, knew it was wrong to use it to her advantage, but it was the least she was asking for right now.  
  
"Who's the someone." Erica asked a moment later, a sly smirk tugging at her chapped lips. Derek side eyed her with a lopsided grin.  
  
"No one." He didn't check his phone again, so Erica believed him. "It's not important." Derek continued, smile faltering only slightly, "I think...when I get back I'm going to call Kate."  
  
Erica didn't say anything to that; she was a firm believer in letting people make their own stupid mistakes, especially one's she cared most about. Even if said mistake had been made continuously over the course of a decade and then some.  
Derek wasn't aware of it, at least not fully, aware that everyone knew about Kate, about what she was like, what she'd done.

Erica knew, Boyd knew, Derek's entire family knew and it was almost sickeningly comical, like he was trying to hide their issues behind a blade of grass in a cartoon skit when said problem was as big as the field the grass grew in. But that was none of her business.  
  
They shared a quick cigarette, burying it in the snow below them before making their way back to the club house.  
Erica playfully shoved Derek and cataloged the look on his face, the false affronted expression and the less than rough retaliation. She would miss this, if she didn't get to see him again in the next couple of months. She would miss a lot of things.

 

'''''

 

"You quadruple checked your bags this morning and in the car, would you please just stop fidgeting!" Lydia hissed, her legs were crossed primly at the ankle and she didn't look up from her phone.

Stiles bounced Lily on his lap for something to do, his hands itching to check he hadn't forgotten anything, especially not Binky the dragon, if he forgot Binky, Lily would never forgive him, she'd cry the house down.  
Lily gurgled happily, her hands flapping at her sides and watching her father. His frown made her hiccup a little laugh.  
  
"I just feel like I'm forgetting something." Stiles bit his lip and turned his attention to the screens above them. Their flight would be boarding soon and Stiles was glad for it. He just wanted to leave.

They'd been delayed for two hours because of weather and Stiles' mood had dropped significantly after at least eight cups of coffee and walking Lily up and down the entire length and perimeter of the airport. He hoped their wouldn't be another last minute delay or he'd pull his hair out, the ticking stationary red and white numbers taunted him.  
  
"This wouldn't have anything to do with the texts you've been avoiding does it?" Lydia did look up then, her eyebrow arched knowingly and Stiles tutted and pulled a face at her.  
  
"Text. Singular. And no, that's the last thing on my mind right now." Stiles was surprised at his own honesty really.  
Stiles had been coming up with all kinds of excuses not to contact Derek. He'd received a simple text the night he'd come back from their not-date and he hadn't received or sent anything since.

Stiles felt slightly guilty about it. He had been the one to give Derek his number and now he was blowing him off, but there wasn't a space for Derek and Stiles really hadn't been thinking of the dark gorgeous man that much at all. He'd been too focused on trying to get another chapter done in the last remaining days, showing Lily the little bit of Norway they hadn't explored that wasn't a book store and fretting over what time to call his Dad when he got back.

Scott had also been particularly silent, but Stiles wasn't worried about him, Scott was scatterbrained as it were and he'd probably lost his phone or something. Although Stiles usually didn't have the time to reply his daily texts, it had become something of the norm between them, even while in Norway.

An undertone of stress was following Stiles around and he wasn't entirely sure what its main source was and the feeling of not having enough time was making his hands shake, however that could have been all the cream, sugar and caffeine from earlier.

  
"All passengers boarding the eight-fourty-five A.M. flight to O'Hare International Airport, your flight has been delayed to eleven-thirty A.M. We apologies for the delay and are doing what we can. Feel free to make your way to the departures lounge and we will do our best to ensure you arrive at your destination as soon as possible."  
  
Stiles groaned. Another hour wasn't the worst waiting time he'd ever experienced and wasn't that bad in the grand scheme of things, but Lily would get bored soon, not to mention himself and she wasn't in the slightest bit tired. Thankfully Lily had been a complete angel today, but Stiles was her father, he knew exactly how quickly her mood could change and that was definitely from his side of the family. Not that Stiles knew much about the other side of Lily's family, not even health, let alone character traits and penchants for one night stands didn't count, then again Stiles didn't know if that was true either. Stiles secured Lily on his lap with one hand and rubbed at his forehead, the slight crease easing under the pressure of his fingers. He was too young to give himself wrinkles, he needed to think.  
  
"I'm going to take her outside. Get some air." Stiles told Lydia, already standing up on stiff legs.

Lydia hummed distractedly, her foot twitching in her high shoes. Even she had to be bored, no matter how much work she had to do. She hadn't stopped tapping at her phone since they got to the airport.  
  
It wasn't too cold outside, but Stiles had bundled Lily in a thick coat, hat and mittens, had kissed her nose when she grizzled at being dressed. Stiles didn't bother with the buggy, she'd only want to be carried anyway.

The snow that fell blocked most of the car park.  
Stiles didn't mind, it wasn't like there was much to see, the flash of color between the endless sheets of snow all dull and blurred together.  
Stiles gently rocked Lily in his arms, listening intently to the tiny noises she made, attentive to the flexing of her small fingers on his shoulders. Stiles was eager to get back home, but in all honesty he had no idea what he was going to do when he got back.

What Stiles wanted to do was so simple, call his Dad, text Scott, write another chapter, go grocery shopping; but for some reason it all just seemed so...overwhelming. Like he had an endless list of things to do, all more impossible than the next, so much that they climbed their way up his chest and settled thickly in his throat and made his eyes water. As much Stiles he reordered what he was going to do, keeping calling his Dad as number one on the list, it didn't make him feel any better, he knew himself well enough to know that this feeling was as unproductive as the past few months. He'd get home, put off unpacking, make an excuse to focus solely on Lily even when she was asleep or fine on her own and end up not doing anything and then feel like shit when the sun began to rise outside the living room window. It was frustrating to say the least.  
  
Stiles watched a taxi appear through the snow as if parting a brilliant white curtain, an off green Toyota, the hood caked in snow.  
The taxi pulled to a smooth stop outside the doors and Stiles watched as it stayed motionless for a short while and then the door opened.

The taxi driver came out first, his open door blocking the person coming out of the back seat. Stiles watched the taxi driver open the boot, could hear the radio playing softly from the open doors.  
The passenger got out of the taxi just as the taxi driver had shut the boot, a medium black suitcase in his hand.  
  
Stiles watched Derek take the bag with an accented thank you and shut the passenger door, waving once at the taxi driver now back in the drivers seat, fiddling with the gear shift. Derek's leather jacket probably wasn't doing much to keep out the freeze, he felt it judging by the stiffness of his shoulder as he lengthened the handle on his suitcase, set it back on the ground and walked through the double electric doors.  
  
Stiles watched the taxi disappear in the opposite direction, swallowed up by the icy veil once again. He exhaled loudly, white smoke leaving his mouth. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed in the cool air, the faint smell of baby powder and lotion and Lily, before heading back inside.

 

'''''

 

  
"I'm going to go to work. You can hang around if you want." Issac said from the bathroom. His voice echoing off the walls.

Scott lay in his bed, covers pulled up to his waist and leaning back on his elbows watching the door.  
Issac's form walked back and forth, in and out of sight in various states of dress before walking out, his arms breaching the sleeves of his black shirt and pulling it over his damp hair. Scott watched his sculpted torso vanish under the soft fabric that fell just under his belt buckle, keeping his black jeans secure.  
  
"I think I'll go." Scott met his eyes.  
  
"Of course." Issac deadpanned, but he was smiling before sitting on the edge of the bed beside Scott and pulling his socks and shoes on.  
  
"You know I have to." Scott sighed.  
  
"I didn't say you didn't." Issac glanced over his shoulder, a slight smirk and a twinkle in his eyes. Scott's heart stuttered, he was beautiful. His curly hair fell wetly against his face, curled at the back of his neck, turning the dark blond in to the same color as sand after the tide goes out. Issac's broad shoulder flexed under his shirt, the scratch marks Scott had left behind probably now raised and red under it, soothed by the hot spray of the shower he just took. Scott felt slightly guilty for that, but Issac never complained.  
  
"How long is your shift?" Scott tilted his head and surveyed the movement of Issac's hands as he laced up his boots.  
  
"Eight hours. Lyndsey's sick." Scott hated this. The awkwardness. The small talk after what they'd just done and he knew it was his fault. He asked the mundane questions even though he knew Issac was always willing to talk.

 

To be honest,Scott was afraid. Afraid of what anything other than small talk would lead to. It wasn't like they didn't have conversations, they did, good ones. But that usually only happened when Scott stayed for more than just a morning or an afternoon, when they did other things other than fuck each other speechless.

Scott felt guilty about those moments more than anything, like it broke some other code, crossed another line that was more stringent than the first. If it had been Allison she would have pushed him, asked him to talk about his feelings, what he was thinking. She pushed and pushed while Issac was just...there.  
  
Issac finished tying his shoes, rubbed his hands roughly against his jean clad thighs and stood. He turned to look down at Scott as he lifted his phone and keys off the night stand. Issac lent over while he put the keys in his pocket, kissing Scott gently on the mouth, once, twice and Scott's hands shot up to thread through his hair and cup the back of his neck to make the third firm and wet and slow, Issac immediately taking the lead, pressing Scott back in to the cushy pillows. Issac bit Scott's bottom lip and pulled away.  
  
"I have work." Issac reminded him, licking his lips with a ghost of a smile on them. Scott nodded.

 

Scott watched Issac leave and shut the door behind him, lock the door and post the keys through the letter box so Scott could lock up when he left, hide the keys in the bristles in between both metal flaps for Issac to fish out when he got home much later on.

 

The bed and the pillows smelt like Issac, like his skin, like sex and faint cologne. Sometimes Scott would bury his face in them, breath him in and out like when they kissed and burrow deep beneath the covers. Today he didn't. Today he stared blankly up at the plain ceiling and blinked.

 

Allison wouldn't be home till eight, that would give Scott at least two hours to clean up, head back and pretend nothing had happened, pretend he hadn't been fucked sideways by another guy while Allie sipped tea and ate a late lunch in a restaurant or cafe somewhere.  
  
Scott checked his phone, already aware there would be nothing there, but old habits die hard. He put the phone down and kicked the bed covers off, swinging his legs over the side. His lower back twinged as he stood and went to the bathroom. He didn't mind it. Never did. In fact he wished it hurt more, he deserved that at least, some kind of penance out of his pleasure other than guilt.  
Scott knew physical pain wouldn't make his guilt go away, but it was at least some kind of consolation for what he was doing to his girlfriend. His girlfriend; the girl he was supposed to marry, settle down with, have a house with a white picket fence and a dog with. The One. The One he was reluctantly washing the smell and the spunk of his lover off his skin for with rough sweeps of his loofah and rinsing and repeating twice more for. Brushing his teeth to get the taste of saliva, cum and dick out of his mouth for, so that when he kissed her she suspected nothing.  
  
Scott was disgusted with himself most days. Not just with this, what he was doing with Issac, but somehow as he made his journey home he always managed to make himself feel worse. Feel like less than dirt and he knew he shouldn't complain about it, it was his own fault, but he wished it would stop. Wished he hadn't done this, wished he hadn't met Issac then hated himself for thinking that, wished Ally would break up with him so he didn't have to do it and tell her why, wished Stiles would reply to his texts and calls and that his Mum was still in the same time zone as him.  
There was a lot of things Scott wished for and he knew that he deserved none of them.  
  
The apartment was neat and quiet as always, the last of the days light bathing everything in gold.  
Scott puttered about, got changed and threw his clothes in the hamper. He brushed his teeth again and made himself a sandwich that was hard to swallow. He fiddled with his phone, his hair, the laptop and waited. Waited for the love of his life to come home and for her to help him act like everything was normal.

 

'''''

 

"You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding." Kate looked ready to burst out laughing, her hands clutching her mug of coffee in her manicured hands.  
  
"Don't look like that, I'm serious." Allison took another bite of her pasta, the tomato sauce falling off her fork and back in to the plate, the tiny splash only reaching the edge of the white ceramic and thankfully not her clothes.  
  
"When did you find out?" Kate asked, glancing down at Allison's torso as if she'd see the evidence of it herself. She looked skeptical to say the least, brushed her flowing hair over her shoulder and regarded her niece with a look that said a thousand words.

Allison rolled her eyes and took another bite of her food.  
  
"I took the test two days ago and again this morning. Unless I'm going blind, there's two lines on all of them." She shrugged and put her fork down, taking a sip of her iced tea, the thick ice cubes brushing her top lip and she tried not to get the cold liquid behind her teeth or she'd get the shivers. She hated that.  
  
"When are you going to tell Scott." Kate said his name like it was difficult for her, an ugly twist of her mouth. "I thought you were using rubbers."  
Allison gave her a pointed look and Kate hid her smirk behind the mug of coffee.  
  
"Soon I guess. I'm not sure how to bring it up." Allison wasn't nervous about telling him, they'd talked about it before. The possibility of having kids had come up in conversation before, they were slightly younger, but Scott had been for it back then. They were older now, they both had stable jobs and there was nothing else left for them to work on, a baby was the logical next step.  
"It broke, I checked." Allison said with a wince and Kate mirrored her expression.  
  
"I didn't need that visual. My innocent niece riffling through the trash for used Johnny's." Kate made a gagging noise and Allison kicked her under the table.  
  
"What about you? Aren't you and Derek talking yet?" Allison wasn't really interested in the that part of her Aunts life, her and Derek had been on and off for years and Allison had only met him a handful of times.  
Allison didn't know him well enough to really make a judgement on their relationship, but it seemed kind of pointless to her; they were always breaking up and making up and it just didn't seem that satisfying in her opinion.

Kate could have anyone she wanted, she knew she could, it just didn't make much sense that she would stay in an on again off again relationship with some guy she didn't seem to like all that much from the way she talked about him.  
  
"He'll come back. They always do. Men are like dogs, Ally. Put them in the dog house long enough and they'll be whining to be let back in sooner or later. Especially this one, give it another few weeks. He'll come crawling back." She said it with such a self assuredness that it was almost scary, as if Kate had concocted the entire situation herself and sat back as it played out before her. She always had that quality, it was something that Allison both respected and wished she had at times.  
Kate just seemed to know things, people, herself, like the back of her hand and the shape of her pointy red nails.

Allison hummed, she didn't exactly share the same sentiment, but she wasn't about to get in to it with her aunt.  
  
"So did you hear about that news story last night?"

'''''

 

Derek walked back in to his office with his head held high, box balanced in his arms as he strode past the sea of shocked faces.  
The satisfaction of the small wave of gasps that split the room when he heavily dropped the box on his desk was somewhat satisfying, enough to scratch a small smirk on to his face.  
  
The smirk was effectively dropped quicker than the box of things at the sound of Jackson's voice followed by his head appearing above the cubical wall.  
  
"Hello, Derek. Fancy seeing you here." Jackson picked up the fallen smirk and used it as his own, not unlike Mr Potato Head, pearly white teeth glinting. His hands-free was still stuck to his ear like a vital organ, flashing blue slowly. Derek just managed to restrain a roll of his eyes at the needless emphasis.  
  
"I work here." Derek said flatly.  
Getting his job back had been easier than he thought. Granted he had had to give an apology through gritted teeth, but it was easier to fake sincerity when you had no other options.

Jackson's arms came up to rest on the top of the wall, bunching his shoulders up and making him look like nothing but a handsome head on a shelf. Derek wouldn't mind acting on that, he'd look fine on the mantle next to the lily's.  
  
"It's been uneventful without you here. Not as much fun." Jackson sneered. It was the closest thing to an 'I Missed You' that Derek was going to get. Derek wasn't stupid and Jackson seemed incapable of acting like a functioning adult. Derek was well aware that it was Jackson who had vouched for his appeal to get his job back, even before Derek had made his decision, but Jackson liked to stick to playground antics. Derek and most of the people in the office were sure it was because of his popularity in high school, he wasn't used to anything else and refused, and could afford not to, adjust to regular life and social interaction that didn't involve a strict hierarchy and actual honesty and maturity. It was too much hard work for him apparently.  
  
"Go away, Jackson." Derek prompted with a raise of his eyebrow after a short while of Jackson just looking at him as if Derek was really going to engage him in some form of witty repartee.  
  
"I-" Thankfully before he could finish his hands-free flashed red rapidly. "Jackson, yeah I know, hang on one sec-" he left quickly, much to Derek's relief.  
  
Not much had changed about Derek's cubicle and he was surprised he hadn't been replaced. The tacky globs of chewing gum were still stuck in the corner of the desk that he and the cleaners both refused to touch, the faded post it note from Derek's first day at work, writing smudged from spilled coffee still stuck to the side of the filing cabinet.

 

There was always that sense of suspended animation about a place when you came back after a long time, like nothing has changed, but rather paused while you were away and the heavy feeling of disappointment and relief sits like a mild stomach flu and you look around you for something that might have changed your entire existence, but can't seem to find it.  
Derek set to work unpacking his box, leaving the pictures for last. Carefully placing the picture of his sisters in Guam to the side to stick up above his computer later.  
  
A few pen holders and two files later, the sound of wheels rolling against rough carpet pricked at Derek's ears.  
  
"It was starting to get weird not seeing your happy face around here." Danny's wide grin and deep set dimples always made it difficult to be offended by anything he said. Derek was sure he could ask a women if she was pregnant and still get away with it if she wasn't.  
  
"Eh, I could have gone a few more weeks without yours." Derek drawled, carefully arranging his highlighters individually.  
Danny clicked and fiddled with a pen in his hands, something to do. He was too smart to do nothing for long periods of time, he was always trying to keep himself busy, even if it meant something as annoying as incessantly tapping pens against the desk. If it was anyone else, he would have been yelled at to shut up, but it was Danny, and it was sort of an unspoken rule that everyone liked Danny, despite his unfortunate association with one Jackson Whittemore.  
  
Danny laughed, swaying his chair from side to side. His cubicle wasn't far from Derek's, but the fact that he'd used his swivel chair to propel himself from the other end of the office just to get to Derek instead of just walking was beyond him.  
  
"I heard you went to Norway. I went their last year." Danny watched Derek flick through the thin pocket files and rearrange one, then glance through a large lever arch file on the desk without looking up at him to answer.  
   
"I did. It was good for the most part." Derek never knew how to describe his trips away, was he supposed to give a detailed account or list off everything he didn't like about his home state in comparison.   
Danny's hands free flashed red before switching instantly back to blue, somehow he made wearing a hands free look far less douchy than Jackson.  
  
"Did you meet anyone?" Danny asked, his tone carefully silicious.  
Derek gave him an incredulous look that was only given another dimpled grin in return.  
  
"Not that it's any of you business, Daniel. No I didn't meet anyone." Derek felt only the slightest hint of something in his chest.  
He couldn't really count Stiles, the man had been gorgeous and funny and great company, but he'd also completely blown Derek off.

Derek didn't like being led on or getting in to anything too complicated. He'd already deleted Stiles' number, in essence it was nothing, nothing to report back to add to the office gossip pool anyway.  
  
"I did." Danny wiggles his eyebrows and Derek throws a balled up post it note at him, that he catches with aggravating ease.  
  
"Oh yeah, who?" Derek doesn't really have much of an interest in his work mates personal lives, but it was a pretty leading statement.  
Danny is never short for dates or someone to spend the night with, he has a different guy on his arm every function and event. In fact him and Derek even had a bit of a thing once in Topanga that they never bring up. Ever. They aren't close though, maybe they would have been if Jackson wasn't the jealous type, but they still like each other. Not enough to spill about an almost something out of nothing in Norway, but enough to be a little more open with one another then say...Jenny from accounting.  
  
"I don't kiss and tell." Danny says with a hint of seriousness. Derek rolls his eyes not bothering to ask why he said it then. "A little mystery goes a long way." He adds. Tossing the paper ball in the air and catching it again.  
Derek is very aware of Danny's eyes on his backside and he counters it with a sharp glare, again only earning him a cheeky grin.  
  
"Go away. I have work to do." Derek orders only half joking.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

Stiles has exhausted every other tactic. He's tried writing, typing, even speaking the next chapter of his book and can't seem to make any headway.

  
Stiles is home and the apartment just feels suffocating most days and he's thankful for the nearby park that gives him an excuse to load Lily in her stroller or carrier and spend the day there.

  
Lily had been grizzly today and Stiles rocks her gently as she whines. He coos at her and agrees with her little noises of protest, he feels exactly the same way. She's probably going to cut a tooth soon and he can't count on only two hands the amount of times he's gotten his fingers almost gnawed off.

Stiles hates seeing her so miserable, keeps trying to reassure her and himself that it'll be over soon and they'll have the cutest pearly white tooth to show for it.  
He looks out the window at the cars driving a slow path through the city, packed tightly together all trying to get somewhere and only hindering each other in the process.

  
Stiles is used to watching the traffic jams below, used to the sound of honking horns and angry shouts of indecipherable words that he should probably shield Lily's ears from. After so long in the still quiet and gentle snow, it's only a little jarring to hear it all in full force again. He can't bring himself to close the window or walk away from the balcony though. Stiles needs that space, that little nook of air to breath. Lily kicks her legs and makes a frustrated 'Ah' at the small gap of silence in Stiles commentary.

"Yep, I get it. Earth to Dad. What was it you were saying?" He smiles and tucks his nose in the crook of her neck and shoulder as she starts babbling to him again.

Stiles knows he's going to be the only one to see her cut her first tooth. His friends and family are all too far away and it sucks Lily will only have him to fawn over her.  
Stiles isn't going to lie, he does feel guilty for it, for being far away from them, from keeping Lily at a distance and subjecting her to Stiles' own personal brand of isolation.  
Lily could have at least had someone else, another person in her life to appreciate something like this in person if Stiles hadn't been so...so frivolous, so irresponsible.  
Stiles isn't sure what's going to be more difficult; getting the book published or explaining a one night stand to a child. His Dad warned him about this, don't get him wrong, John isn't a judgmental man, but he is honest.

  
John had sat his son down and went over all of it with him, the highs and lows, the memories and the regrets, but he'd told Stiles from the start that it was going to be difficult, that there may even be a bit of resentment down the line, he'd been through it all with Stiles.

  
Stiles hoped it wouldn't be like that, hoped when he explained to Lily that he had made a mistake she didn't take it the wrong way, gone over synonyms in his head for _'it was an accident'_ in a way that would show her she wasn't one. Not like that anyway, that if he could he would give her everything, more, the world.

 

"Hey Dad." Stiles smiles, Lily batting her hands against her legs noisily and 'Ta!'ing at the screen. His Dad's kind face smiles back, his work uniform slightly creased. He was never exactly the best at ironing. "How's my girl doing? Huh, what's the dealio?"

His fathers voice filters through the tinny laptop speakers loudly. Stiles winces at the use of the word 'dealio'.  
For some reason, John had taken it upon himself to learn really outdated slang in order to talk to Lily.

  
Stiles is sure in his mind, he thinks she's going to speak in computer code with the way he's trying to stay 'hip' and 'up to date', albeit failing horrendously.  
They talk briefly, Stiles explaining the tooth situation, but leaving out his own personal scruples. It sucks that he's going to have to show his father his granddaughters first tooth through a grainy webcam. Skype is great, but it's also a huge reminder of distance.

  
Their conversations are always this arbitrary, Stiles usually calls at this time when it's lunch time at the sheriffs station and they're both too worn to talk about anything more than random facts about their daily lives, food and weather; but it's their way of saying _'I love and miss you so terribly it breaks me apart'._  
Its difficult to say that when you miss half a persons day, when you don't get to touch them or hear them properly.  
Stiles wonders if Lily will feel something similar one day, getting a paternity test would be easy, but the odds of finding a one night stand in the middle of Chicago are about as probable as finding a matching sock in Stiles' old room.

It hadn't bothered him that much, it really hadn't, but now that he doesn't have the first book to think about and his writing has slowed, all he sees constantly are billboards and advertisements about nuclear families, even beside interviews he's done and Lily will see that one day and he isn't sure what that will bring with it. Stiles doesn't know how to answer a question that hasn't even been said yet in a way that isn't _'Daddy got piss drunk and slutted it up at his first book premiere with a stranger who doesn't know you exist, here's the guest list and a few dollars, good luck.'_ Not great.

"I had three sticks of celery yesterday, you should be proud of me." John says through a mouthful of ham sub.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Sure, of course I am. It's only your health we have to think about here."  
Stiles carefully maneuvers Lily slightly away from the laptop so she doesn't beat the keyboard with the xylophone stick that he gave her to keep her occupied while they talked.  
John grumbles something Stiles can't quite catch before swallowing his mouthful. Lunch is almost over now.

"I gotta go kid, we've got a case on and I've been working late to try and get it finished." Stiles swallows, feeling a little awkward.  
Stiles knows his father doesn't mean it like that, but he can't help feeling a little hurt. Like there isn't enough time for him and it's not like that, but hearing his Dad has to work so hard as well as being told he needs to let him get on with it and stop distracting is a little wounding to his pride.

"Yeah...okay. Good luck and try and get some sleep if you c- is that Melissa's coat?" Stiles squints at the image on the screen, a small burnt fuchsia behind his Dad's thick wadded coat. John's head quickly snaps to look in that direction and then back at the screen. "Err...yes?" He says to Stiles scandalous raised eyebrows.

"Oh my-, it's nothing. Talk to you soon! Love you Lily!" He shuts off the call before Stiles can even comment, leaving his son gaping like a fish and feeling maybe slightly impressed. Well...that's a new development. Lily hits him on the knee with the stick and makes little popping noises with her mouth. Stiles looks down at her and she looks up at his curiously. "It looks like Grandad has got himself a girlfriend." Even Lily looks slightly interested by this, eyes wide and questioning.

 

'''''

 

Getting back to work is as smooth as Derek had expected, like gravel against glass.

  
Even just a few weeks away meant he'd missed practically two full seasons of work, trends, clients and experiences that in their own right were necessary, especially when it came to building connections.

  
He was hanging just outside the loop, but Derek was good at his job regardless and threw himself in to it so hard he missed lunch, so unaware of the time till he heard a slightly gruff 'see you tomorrow' from a retreating Danny, beige jacket thrown over his shoulder like an Armani runway model.  
Derek was too absorbed in the e-mail he'd been trying to write for a good two hours that he didn't even reply, instead blinking upward and then again as the light above him flickered.

The office was practically silent save for more tapping and the occasional murmur from those as sad as Derek who's life sometimes wrapped so far around their work, where it ended and they began was an enigma in itself.

  
Derek paused, taking his fingers off the keys and flexing them. He checked in on his cold scummy looking coffee, it looked as unappetizing as it probably tasted but he didn't feel like making himself another one.

  
Derek saved the e-mail as a draft and clicked out of the tab and checked his personal e-mail. Replying to his mother seemed like a harder task than replying to a client or events manager. The e-mail, _'Talia V M Hale'_ beside the untitled subject was more daunting than _'Farbright Productions'._

Derek loved his mother, he did, but he didn't know how to talk to her, even writing to her was a task and he vaguely remembered that they never used to be like that, but that was a life time ago, another Derek, another sense of priority and home and what family meant, so much so that Derek felt as if it were two different people experiencing and remembering those times.

  
The nostalgia he had wasn't as warm and as fond as the memories that inspired it should have been. Derek had contacted his mother briefly when he got home over the phone. Her friend from the golf club had died.

  
Derek never breached his mothers personal life often, if ever. She was an active social women, always keen to keep up a busy schedule and a challenge with an attitude that exuded 'just watch me', but she compartmentalized, a trait Derek had picked up from her and certainly not from his father.

  
Talia kept everything in their rightful place and order, where they seemingly belonged. Her children were to know of her personal life but not be a part of it, her work friends and her family friends only met at the annual BBQ and _so help me God, Andrew if you put the sauce in the same Tupperware bowl as the rice._ It was partly because of her Attorney history, habits she couldn't shake off. So Derek had never experienced certain aspects of her life the way his siblings still living there did now that she had taken an early retirement.

Talia had changed since He died, since then she'd become a little less stringent, a little warmer and to Derek it was weird. For Cora it was Mum, it was how she'd always remembered her, but Derek had seen another side of his mother before then and he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that side was really gone. Laura gripped at him about it on the rare occasion she was brave enough to bring it up, but they were different, she could adapt and accept change in a way Derek never could. So when he got e-mails or texts from their mother asking personal questions in a tactful manner and filling him in on her friendships and affairs, it was plain strange.

Derek knew he was being ridiculous as he sighed and went to dump out his coffee in the sink and make a new one, he was being a coward plain and simple.

  
Derek didn't deal well with his mothers grief, it made him uncomfortable and uneasy, she dealt with grief in a way that Derek didn't understand fully and he didn't know what she wanted from him. Advice? He couldn't give her that, he'd only ever lost one person of importance in his life and that had been catastrophic and the equivalent of a natural disaster, but Pauline from golf? He didn't know how to deal with that.

  
Derek didn't mean to be heartless, his mother hadn't even asked anything of him, she'd just mentioned it, but he'd heard that tinge to her voice, that drop of red in to the pure clearing, slowly sinking to the many layers at the bottom that suggested he offer some kind of comfort.

  
Derek's siblings and extended family still lived near by, some next door, some even still in the house, they were there for her and made more of an effort to be.

Derek sat down, stretched his fingers and began typing, pushing his mother towards the rest of the family as subtly as possible.

  
The e-mail was brief and he sent it, quickly logging off and ignoring his junk mail, reopening his previous tab. The cursor blinked at him imperiously. Derek rolled his eyes and pressed send. It wasn't his best work but it got the message across and as he sat back and yawned in his swivel chair his mind wondered to messages, like the one he still hadn't sent to Kate.

  
Derek looked around the partially empty office, the lights dim in some corners, the distant whirr of the floor polisher no doubt reverberating off the walls somewhere in the building. He still wasn't sure, still had that queasy feeling in his gut that he couldn't discern its meaning; worry, relief, regret? He wasn't sure just yet. But his apartment felt empty, his bed was cold, his kitchen not as well used and the expensive fire place black and dusty. Lifeless.

He'd been through things like this before with her, argued, separated and got back together again. It was their routine, their thing. But that was before Derek actually acknowledged he could meet someone else. He hadn't let himself think much about Stiles, hadn't text or called him and forcibly pushed the pale freckled man from his mind.

  
Derek had never really actively pursued someone as much as he had with Kate; she hadn't been his first in any sense of the word, but she had been the first thing he'd ever taken seriously aside from his job. The only thing that set her aside from the others was the mutual give and take.

  
Derek had been pursued, but with Kate it was reciprocated, a lot of the time involuntarily and the thought of something like that outside of her actually hadn't crossed his mind.

His routine was always so precise and her flippancy and their turbulence was always scheduled and expected to the point that when it took too long to happen they'd just break it off passively for a while. It was how they were.

  
That was like an island in the middle of an ocean, a regulated small island that Derek could navigate without a map or compass and then suddenly on the horizon there's a light he'd never seen before. A brief tiny twinkle far in the distance and it's practically knocked him flat, floored him like the first time Kate ever said anything along the lines of the L word.

Derek frowned in to his once again empty mug, tilting the lumped together contents at the bottom with a grimace. If he squinted he could conjure an arrow, at an angle maybe a bat or an artichoke, but it also just looked like the dregs of cheap faux Italian coffee at the bottom of a scratched white mug. He didn't actually own the mug or know who it belonged to; he hadn't bothered to ask when it was placed in front of him earlier on in the day.

So Derek washed the mug and all its prophetic hippie dippy tea leaf bullshit he didn't believe in and left the office with a heaviness in his stomach.

 

'''''

 

"I love you too." Erica grinned, kissing Boyd once more, a chaste sweet press of lips before letting him stand up straight and go to the kitchen to check on the Spaghetti Bolognese.

  
It was Erica's turn to cook, but Boyd offered and she let him. He was always so thoughtful, what he lacked in the kind of outrageous spontaneity she had, he made up for with thoughtfulness. It was a kind of consideration she'd battled with herself to try and do more of, but somehow she always ended up coming up short.

Erica wasn't really paying attentions to the scenes playing out before her on the flat screen TV, courtesy of Boyd's parents and the string of her grey sweatpants was more interesting as she twisted it around her forefinger and tugged. They were looser since the last time she'd worn them, she had to tie the string all the way to get them to stay up without her holding them, but they still managed to slide off her narrow hips and settles just below the jut of the bone. They'd fit snugly on her waist before, hugging her toned calves and ample behind. That had been two weeks ago.

Erica had gone from a flexible size eight to a close six and although Boyd hadn't brought it up, she could feel the difference. The gaps in his embrace and the lightness in his gentle caresses. She could feel how much smaller she was and how much bigger his actions felt in comparison.

  
Erica felt ugly, she knew Boyd thought she was beautiful, but she'd liked her body, worked hard for it and for her curves and now...now her hoodie almost drowned her.  
There was only so much padding and layers could hide and eventually Boyd would have to say something about the frailty of her wrists and the almost graze of her ribs.

Erica's mother had called and Erica had asked to speak to her sister. Rachel had always been brash, 'honest' was the word she liked to use, but it was that kind of honesty that was morally dubious in its intent.

  
Rachel was the only one Erica could trust not to treat her as if she was dying, at least not in the pitying way she knew it would encourage, the willingness to do as she said and attend parties she sprung out of no where.

  
Rachel talked about the illness as if it were something insignificant and boring, asking insensitive questions and made Erica second guess her decision to call.

  
However, it was refreshing. Her appointed haughty bitch of a therapist had told her she needed a support network, that she needed comfort and understanding. Rachel was the exact opposite and Erica was glad for it. It wasn't that it gave her the chance to laugh in the face of her illness, but it gave her room to breath, another pocket of air in which to gasp hungrily from in the form of flippancy towards the disease slowly eating away at her insides out. It was the like the chill in the air that Norway provided her with, that bite and feisty kick she craved. It was part of the reason why she had wanted to move here.

  
When Boyd found out that she'd known for that long he'd be furious. She didn't blame him, she'd be mad at her too if it was the other way around. But it wasn't the other way around.

She listened to the clink of plates and pots and cutlery and Boyd's out of tune humming, resting her head on her knees and regulating her breathing in two three four, out two three and in two three four...

  
Erica wondered if Boyd would never eat Spaghetti Bolognese again, if her death would ruin it for him because it was her favourite. If he'd only concede to having it on her birthday, glaring down at the vivid red sauce and ropes of pasta and poking at the disguised vegetables, not so well hidden under it, but enough to hide their color and identity.

  
Boyd was a vegetarian anyway, his choices were limited. He hated it when she teased him about it, insisting that he had many options and subjecting her to a tirade of bland sounding vegetable and tofu dishes that sounded more at home on a veterinary menu than in any kitchen she used.

Alicia would be visiting next week, sweeping through their apartment with feline grace and a neatly packed wheeled suitcase, filling the house with enough pretentiousness and laughter to make up for Erica's dwindling witty remarks with anyone outside of her close circle of friends, enough for Erica to bounce off of and not think too much about.  
Erica loved Alicia, had considered telling her, but Alicia and Boyd were often mistaken for twins because of their closeness. She would tell Boyd in a heartbeat. Her little brother meant more than the earth and its moon to her and although that kind of stung, Erica had always been glad Boyd had that, more so now. If anyone was going to get Boyd through it, it was Alicia.

"Here ya go." Boyd smiled softly handing Erica a steaming bowl of starch and thick lashings of fresh blended vegetable (fruit if you were picky) and huge spheres of minced meat all sprinkled with cheese and herbs like snow atop a rocky mountain. Erica dug in right away.

 

"I think Stephan said they were renovating, but he's not sure." Boys said some time later in to their light conversation, pausing to blow at his fork full of pasta before popping it in to his mouth.

  
Erica nodded, mouth too full to talk, but she did anyway.

"It's about time, it looks like shit." Erica hated the old hall on the road leading toward their apartment, it was greying and depressing, sodden with dampness and moss. There was apparently talk of it being turned in to either a youth center or a mosque.

  
Their mutual friend Stephan worked at the local council and the amount of money that had been bid on the hall was enough to induce a heart attack in even the healthiest of individuals. Erica's mouth had fallen wide open when she'd heard, told in a conspiratory voice over bottles of beer and in the comfort of fat beaded bean bags.

They alternated between watching the crap on TV, making fun of the shit acting and talking about daily things. Erica had never thought she'd be the type to be in a steady relationship, especially not the type to have things like mutual friends and couples to double date with and friends you kept separate and in different categories and never mixed, never thought she'd be that kind of person.

  
As she looked over at Boyd, lost in whatever drama was unfolding on screen her heart ached and her stomach, but that was something she was becoming used to. He was gorgeous and poised and like a rock in a hurricane and tsunami that was her life, even before now he'd always been there, always honest and available and lying to him was like stabbing a machete through those intricate sticky red strings they'd spent years weaving toward one another, the ones they'd used to crawl forward instead of back, hoisting themselves above the tide and the whirlpool, hands grasping and unyielding.

Erica hadn't heard from Derek since he got back, save for the obligatory landing text. She wasn't exactly hurt by it, he had that way about him. An organized messy way of operating that often resulted in very little contact for long periods of time. But she'd thought... no, it was wrong of her to even think about wanting that kind of sympathy, it was the whole reason she'd kept this whole thing a secret. It wasn't worth it, she was too prideful for that, too stubborn and arrogant.

  
Derek often didn't text for months on end and she'd gotten used to that despite how much it annoyed her, it was how he was. She hadn't been able to lie to him.

Erica took the dishes to the kitchen and stacked the dishwasher, she turned and leaned against the counter. The back of Boyd's head to her and the broad firm set of his shoulder just above the back of the couch, relaxed.

  
She loved him so much it scared her.

  
His shirt was oatmeal colored, the cuffs, collar and a quarter of the shoulder a bluey-green color, like the tie she'd bought him last Christmas that looked like fabric jewel against his dark skin.

Erica uncrossed her arms and set the foot she'd crossed over her ankle on the ground in front of her and made her way back to the open plan living room, she spared a glace at the television and its repetitive advertising and turned to her boyfriend. He looked up at her with clear dark eyes and she carefully settled her legs on either side of his thighs and sat in his lap, arms winding up with an air of muscle memory.

  
She breathed him in, flitted in and out of his existence like a ghost in its home and held on so tight for a brief moment she thought her bones would shatter under her skin and she'd crumble to dust and be blown away up in to the atmosphere and in amongst the stars.

She loved him fiercely.

 

"Let's go to bed." She mumbled.

 

'''''

 

"I worry about him y'know?"

Melissa nodded in a way that conveyed a deep layer of understanding, incomprehensible. In a way only a mother could achieve.

  
John watched her sip from her large glass of red wine and then eyed his own. He didn't really feel like it, but the taste was somewhat welcome despite that. He'd finished the beers and wasn't up for going out.

John didn't like thinking too much in to his son's life. It only led to the kind of worry that had him struggling with himself on whether or not to book the next plane ticket.

  
Sometimes it was better for the both of them that he pretended he didn't see the strain in his boys smile, the slate in his wide eyes. It hurt him.

  
John liked to think he was the right blend of new age and traditionalist that warranted a kind of trust and openness between himself and his son that they could speak about anything, but lately...John took another sip of overly warm wine...who was he kidding, it wasn't lately. It had always been that way, that wall they never tried to climb, those things they just didn't speak about if it didn't involve basic information and daily occurrences both were already all too familiar with.

  
John was close to his son in the way it counted, emotionally. But when it came to speaking, confiding in one another regularly was when the gaping hole Claudia had left behind became more evident.

Melissa nibbled at the pretzels in the center of the table. The poker game long over, the guests long gone just leaving behind the two to be in their own thoughts and in each others company without too much pressure, their limbs and lips loosened by the company of others an hour before.

"You should talk to him." Melissa said predictably.

John shrugged, "did you get the details about the Maddison case?"

"Yeah," the far away look that appeared briefly in Melissa's eyes was familiar in a bitter sweet sort of way.

The case was gruesome and bloody, the kind that had John seriously considering his pension plan and his retirement. It would be a good case to end on, go out with a bang. But considering who'd ever strung this family up like butchers choice items wasn't caught yet, there as possibility he still could, in the kind of way he couldn't afford to do. Not now, not when Stiles was still so young, not when Melissa was so comfortable and beautiful, her curly hair tumbling over he shoulders and lines at the edges of her eyes deepened as she frowned and her plump rosy lips slightly parted in thought. He couldn't afford that.

  
John had enough money set aside to cover for it, any accidents, any mistakes; but it didn't mean he was going to go around tempting fate. He had to admit since Lily was born he'd been more careful than when Stiles was and maybe he was at fault for that, too reckless with his life at that time, but now, when he had a granddaughter he was cautious when turning corners, when started the car and checking his stock of bullets.

"We had another one in the morgue today. Pauline Windsey. Aneurism, completely out of  nowhere." Melissa mumbled, meeting John's attentive stare.

John nodded. "Liam's ex wife?"

"No, William's. Talia Hale came in, the only one to collect the paper work and identify the body. Apparently her children were too distraught to do it themselves." Melissa's voice had the tone of slight contempt.

  
Melissa had enough experience to know the truth of grieving families, of the need to see to believe and the fact that Pauline's children really couldn't be bothered to check in on their dead mother in the hospital was sickening; if Melissa wasn't used to it it may be worse. She traded looks with Talia, but they both didn't say a word, all too aware at their age of so many things.

"How's she taking it?" John had an amicable relationship with Talia, he'd been there at pivotal parts in the Hale family life however undesirable the circumstances and always received invites for events and BBQ's, but he wasn't sure if he could say they were more than just casual friends, just off the cusp of acquaintances.

  
John had grown up in Beacon Hill's, had spent all of the important parts of his life there before Claudia died and he moved himself and Stiles to Denver where he met Melissa and Scott and Melissa's husband Raphael at the time.

  
John's decision to move back to Beacon Hill's was largely based on Stiles' career. When Stiles had left there hadn't been much to do in Denver; nothing much left for him.

  
When Melissa moved in to a house a few blocks away it had merely been the sensible decision as Melissa herself had been looking to downsize after her divorce and there had been an available nursing job going in Beacon Hill's for decent pay.

  
John had gone to the same school as Talia Hale and her husband, everyone had, but she was a few years older and the kind of attractive allusive brunette a teenage John at the time would never dare talk to till college.

  
There was a lot he didn't know about the Hale's that wasn't written in a file. He knew there was a lot of them, that was one thing.  
John hadn't known Pauline, but he'd smiled at her in line at the supermarket and even now, after everything he'd seen and been through, it felt surreal.

"They played tennis together." Melissa shrugs in lieu of an explanation and stood to put her glass in the dish washer. She walks back, bare feet padding about the ground and extends her hand for John to take, "lets go to bed."

  
It isn't a request and John takes her hand carefully and stands, thoughts put on the shelf for now, the gentle sway of Melissa's hips and the sound of rain starting outside brought in to the front window.

**Author's Note:**

> Photo credit: Craig Richardson.


End file.
